Aw, c’mon, ‘Stix, beak a good sport, wood n’t you chip in with us?
What would Old Hickory do?
Smoke, smoke, smoke that chickenette!
Smoke, smoke, smoke that chickenette
Stuff, stuff, stuff and if you eat yourself to death
Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hate to make him wait
But you just gotta scarf another chickenette!
The other night I had a date
With the cutest little gal in the United States
A low-browed, out of town, red-necked dame
She loved me and it seemed to me
That things were ‘bout like they oughta be
So hand in hand we strolled Barbecue Lane
She was oh so far from a cake of ice
And our smoochin’ party was goin’ nice
So help me cats I believe I’d be there yet
But I give her a kiss and a little squeeze
And she said, “ah, Gatey, excuse me please
I just gotta have me another, chickenette”
And she said, smoke, smoke, smoke that chickenette
Stuff, stuff, stuff and if you eat yourself to death
Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hate to make him wait
But you just gotta scarf another chickenette