Well, I bet you heard
If you ever read the Word
Of the Good Book it took God
Seven days to make the Earth
And He made the moon and stars
And the sun out of gold
But there's one part of the story
That's very seldom told
You see, He took a little cow
And He made a little udder (moo)
Squeezed a little milk
And He made a little butter (ah)
He laid out a little spread
Then He broke a little bread
Then the best idea He ever had
Popped into His head
Corn!
Yes, we said corn
Just as sure as the day that you were born
In the evening, it's for supper
Then it's grits in the morn
No, it ain't our bread that's buttered
No, it's corn
We're here to tell you a fable
A farm to fable
Ooh!
About a simple place time forgot
Called Cobb County
Now, I know
When some of you think "small towns"
You think gun-totin', rusted-truck hayseeds
Who think liberal is how you pour your whisky
And fluid belongs in your gas tank
But I want you to open your minds and think
Even smaller
Somewhere north of south and south of north
To a place where being from somewhere is who you are
Filled with people no different than you or me
Well
More you
Proud, simple people who, more than anything
Love their corn
They say it came from Mexico
Some seven thousand years ago
Somewhere between right now and dinosaurs. Roar
Cut to the 1400s
Christopher Columbus
Brought syphilis and smallpox to the shore
And took credit for
Corn!
I'm talking corn
When it's popping up in rows it's just like Norman Rockwell
Had a fresh new canvas of a technicolor morn
It's Kentucky and it's Kansas
Yeah, it's corn
It grew everywhere
In tall, proud rows
Cornrows
Uh-uh, mm-mm. Don't do that
Okay
It popped up on every property line
Forming a huge corn wall that completely surrounded the town
Because of that
No one had ever left or come to Cobb County
Oh, they knew of the outside world
They just wanted no part of it
The way history is written (history)
Jumpin' to the first Thanksgiving (first Thanksgiving)
The Indians brought something they called maize (Indians, ah! Maize!)
Around eleven-thirty (eleven-thirty)
The pilgrims stuffed the turkey (stuffed the turkey)
Slipped into a tryptophanic haze
With leftovers for days and days of
Corn
Yeah, I heard corn
Got us through the Great Depression and the storm
They turned it into alcohol
Yeah, that's my favorite form
It's mazola and it's ethanol, it's corn
We were corn bred
We were corn fed
Out here we really feel like we were chosen (woo!)
We love corn flakes
We love corn cakes
Don't know where we would be without that golden
Corn (golden corn)
And on this day
Vows were written for a wedding that almost didn't happen
Maybe love is like a dream
A couple vows
A couple rings
It's a promise that you make
That two hearts will never break
Maybe love is like a song
All at once you sing along
Doesn't have to be that hard
When it's written in the stars
Maybe love is like a seed
A little sun is all you need
A little rain and so it goes
It grows and grows in rows and rows from dust
Maybe love just needs a little
Sweet corn, street corn
It's really hard to beat corn
Hands or feet, no wrong way to eat corn
It's a resource that's always renewable
Bring it to a bris
Or a wedding, or a funeral
Cook it on the cob
Or in a tortilla
You can even make it an onomatopoeia
Candy corn, kettle corn, put it in your mouth
It's the same goin' in comin' out
Woo!
Sweet corn, street corn (oh)
It's really hard to beat corn
Hands or feet, no wrong way to eat corn (oh)
It's a resource that's always renewable
Bring it to a bris
Or a wedding, or a funeral
Cook it on the cob (oh)
Or in a tortilla
You can even make it an onomatopoeia (you! Make! Ah! P!)
Candy corn, kettle corn, put it in your mouth (oh)
It's the same goin' in comin' out
Sweet corn, street corn
It's really hard to beat corn
Hands or feet, no wrong way to eat corn
It's a resource that's always renewable
Bring it to a bris
God! It's got the juice!
Sweet, street
Hands, feet
Cook it, pop it
Baby, bris
Ashes to ashes and dust into dust
We give to the corn 'cause the corn gives to us
♪
Corn!
A pile of corn
It's our living
It's our loving
It's our corn (and when we are leavened)
To Heaven
We won't need to mourn
Just as long as the streets are paved with corn
When we get to Heaven
We won't need to mourn
Just as long as
Those streets are paved with corn, corn
Corn!