Mama cooked before church every Sunday morning,
raised me with white lily flour by hand.
I'd run down the hall like a bat out of heaven
and say, oh Lord, let it be done, Amen.

I sat under that antique plaque of Mary and her son
While gold light from the window shined on her at the oven.

[Chorus]
Here's to my mama and her bread of life
with a faith like butter you spread with a knife.
I say hallelujah
for those days I grew up
on a family breakfast revival
of buttermilk biscuits and the Bible.

She served up a sermon from her laminate pulpit,
Making me wait and say pretty please.
She held up her hands and said all that I wanted
is in the good book of recipes.

[Chorus]

and strawberries
and blueberries too

So raise your hands to the sun
if you want another one.

[Chorus]

and strawberries
and blueberries too