The Ballad Of Martha White

Darrell Scott

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    THE BALLAD OF MARTHA WHITE

    I'm southern born and corn bred
    My folks are just the same
    I got my southern heritage
    I got my papaw's name
    I fell in love with a little girl when I was six years old
    She had the name of Martha White and she had her own radio show

    You see, Martha had a brand of flour, for biscuits, cakes and pies
    She had Shirley Temple golden curly hair and southern, baby blue eyes
    And on Saturday nights with my guitar, I'd sit and play along
    I knew every word and every note to that Martha White hour theme song

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    Well my folks took a vacation down to Nashville, Tennessee
    Bought me a Goo Goo Cluster and a front row seat to the Grand Ol' Opry
    And there before my childish eyes was that high and lonesome sound
    But nowhere on that Opry stage was Martha to be found
    Well I finally found my Martha out in the Opry stars' parking lot
    She was cooling off them up and coming boys
    You see they were Billboard hot and they were drinking something out of a brown paper bag
    I knew I'd lost my Martha the only love I'd ever had

    Oh, they're all better looking than the ones who went before
    Same old hat, same old voice
    Can they give us nothing more?
    They're all smiling for the cameras, walking softly, talking loud
    Martha, she still makes those biscuits greasy, fluffy and proud
    You got your French croissant and all that Italian pastry-chef voodoo
    You just pop one of them suckers in your mouth, slivate and chew
    But what you won't find on the shelves of the finer kitchens of the world
    Is the face of our self-promoting, self-perpetuating, self-rising flour girl

    You only get it in the southland
    That's where demographics best
    It's the brand that Mom and Daddy bought | They won't give the girl a rest
    And it's the same as it ever was from fifty years ago
    She ain't mortal like you and me
    Martha White will never grow old

    They're all better looking than the ones who went before
    Same old hat, same old voice
    Can they give us nothing more?
    They're all smiling for the cameras, walking softly, talking loud
    Martha, she still makes those biscuits greasy, fluffy and proud
    For the finest biscuits ever was get Martha White self-rising flour
    The one all purpose flour
    Martha White self-rising flour with the hot rize plus

    Song details

    Composition: Darrell Scott

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