My dad made a mean jambalaya
It was a family tradition
With crawfish and chicken and spicy chorizo
And an onion for extra nutrition.
He’d simmer them all in a pot
With herbs he assured us were lawful
And sometimes it tasted like heaven on earth (ah-ah-ah!)
And sometimes it tasted just awful.

CHORUS:
The recipe’s always the same
But time is a practical joker
How things will turn out in the end…in the end
Is more like a slick game of poker.

(Instrumental break) “Ahh-haaaa!”

Now, the same can be said for romance
The story that plays in our head
Boy meets a girl
Gives her a whirl
And hopes he will take her to bed.
There’s music and candles and wine
No onion! – for kissing-sweet breath
And sometimes those kisses are like hot jambalaya
And sometimes they’re colder than death.

CHORUS
The recipe’s always the same
But time is a practical joker
How things will turn out in the end…in the end
Is more like a slick game of poker.

TAG: How things will turn out in the end…in the end
Is more like a slick game of poker.
Jambalaya, jambalaya, jambalaya. Ahh-haaa!