I Want A Pancake    Randy Woods    

Randy wrote this song to the melody of tune from the 1940's

called "Scrub Me Momma With A Boogie Beat." I found a copy of

the 78-RPM recording and learned the melody.  In the studio Ken

(piano), Gilles (bass), and Gord (drums) were worn out from too

many takes when they summoned up their energy and laid down the

high-energy rhythm section for this great song.

The little bird that woke me up this morning had this to say

“I always like a hot breakfast to start off my day"

There's something in what he says, and Mother agrees

When she calls "Come and get it", we know she means to please

She's in the kitchen mixing batter, using both hands

It starts to pop and splatter when it gets in the pan

We duck into the breakfast nook and now we can't wait

For something round and flat that we can stack on a plate

We're all in our places (we've got the syrup ready)

With grins on our faces (she's making way too many)

Let me loosen my braces (we won't leave any)

We got so hungry that we can't stand steady

Man, I could eat (look at her flip those things)

Save her a seat (she's wearing Father's ring)

Just about then (right at the table)

Mama, oh I want a pancake (Mama, oh I want a pancake)

Now we'd have pancakes every day if we were allowed

We ask for wheat-cakes Monday, Mother says stick around

On Tuesday we say hot-cakes, again it's no soap

And no buckwheats on Wednesday, why we nearly lose hope

When Thursday brings no battercakes we're out of our minds

And Friday without flannel cakes

Flannel cakes? - I had a dream last night that I as eating

flannel cakes...and when I woke up, half my blanket was gone

By Saturday fl-fl-flapjacks is all we can say

And we would all be goners if it weren't for Sunday

Man, it was tough (how many days it's been)

Ain't we suffered enough (we're getting way too thin)

We huffed and we puffed (a lot of good that did)

But now we're gonna stuff and stuff those griddlecakes in

Man, it was bleak (around the breakfast table)

All of this week (we had hay from the stable)

But blessed are the meek (but Father hollers)

Mama, oh I want a pancake (Mama, oh I want a pancake)

You know if I were pushing pancakes heres a trick I would try

I'd rig my big bicycle with a griddle to fry

And I'd be flipping flapjacks to beat the band

While holding on the handlebars with only one hand

Passers-by would page me as I pedaled past

I'd stop in time because I couldn't ride very fast

They'd line up on the sidewalk like ships at a dock

And I would heat their pancakes while I rode round the block

Well everyone, how do you like the service

(Son-of-a-gun, the way you serve us makes us nervous)

What?  What do you mean (you're so unsteady. If you should fall

you'd likely spill the butter in the gutter)

Well, those are the risks (and life is full of them)

But business is brisk.  Who's next (who's next, who's next)

Just about then (everyone hollers)

Mama, oh I want a pancake (Mama, oh I want a pancake)

Flour, salt, sugar, double-acting baking powder

I'm sifting all day (in Sunday spiffies)

Sour milk, butter, and one or two eggs

I'm mixing batter all day (it's my own recipe)

Now pour 'em and fry 'em, and stack 'em on a platter

Mama, oh I want a pancake (Mama, oh I want a pancake)

Mama, I want, I want a

Mama, oh I want, I want a

Mama, oh I want, I want a pancake please