The sun would rise and sleepy-eyed
I'd stumble out the door;
'Was time to start my busy day
And do the old farm chores.

Meals I'd cook on the old wood stove,
Perhaps for twenty-four;
The hungry folks around our farm
Might eat, then ask for more.

This modern day brings quite a change--
Now when the alarm rings,
I take my leave, all suave and neat,
Walk so briskly down the street--
And as for cooking,
Who does that?
I'll stop at the diner to nibble and chat!

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