If I had to live in the barnyard
Which critter would I be?
I’d never wanna be a chicken!
Chicka-chicka-chicken, not me!
Cuz first they’d wring my neck
Then they’d pluck my feathers bare
Then they’d throw me in the fryin’ pan.
Chicka-chicka-chicken cooks there.

CHORUS:  Our family likes good chicken
Chicka-chicka-chicken in the pan.
C-H-I-C-K-E-N, Chicka-chicka-chicken in the pan. 

Our girls like chicken fingers.
My son, he’s a nugget man
Mama throws the bones in the soup pot
And Grandma likes her Chicken Divan    
We like Creole Chicken Gumbo
Chinese Chicken Chow Mein
We like Chicken Cacciatori
Or wings on the grill Plain Jane.  SING CHORUS

Instrumental

We’ve got chicken in Alabama,
Chicken from Arkansas
We’ve  got chicken from the state of Georgia.
We eat chicken in the shoppin’ mall. 
Like Chick-Fil-A and Popeyes
We dig the colonel with the white goatee.
Nos gusta arroz con pollo
Eat some chicken chimichanga with me.   SING CHORUS

Now this song, it ain’t real spiritual
My message isn’t deep
But maybe I can change that?
Let’s go back in history:

Chicken’s been here since time began.
Adam was a chicken; that’s why he ran
Sinned with Eve, then fled to a bush.
His chicken-liver heart just turned to mush.
“Don’t blame me, God!  Give HER the boot.
It’s her hen-peckin’ made me eat that fruit.
SING CHORUS