Yer lookin’ at a man who never learned to cook
Unless you count pork & beans
And a flowery grace like you’d read in a book
Is really beyond my means.
But You can believe I’m a thankful man
Though it might be undeserved
And I’ll eat whatever comes out of the pan
No matter what’s bein’ served.
I don’t take it lightly if it’s real good
‘Cause I’d eat it anyway
See I know there’s people, in all likelihood
That might not eat today.
So count me in if yer needin’ grace
And bless those who provide it
The farmers and ranchers, the bakers of bread
The loving hand that fried it.
But most of all, Lord, we give thanks to You
‘Cause we who work on the land
Know how much our harvest and bounty is due
To the gainful touch of Yer hand.
So bless this food and the life we embrace
And please forgive us our pride
When others with tables a-plenty say grace
For what we’ve helped You provide.