Keep On Churnin'

Lyrics

Four in the morning.
The floorboards are cold.
Down to the cellar, from the stoneware crock of old.
The cream is cool and heavy, sixty degrees just right.
Pour it in the tall wood barrel in the pale moonlight.
Lift the handle, the dasher smooth and worn.
Gotta have the butter ready for the bread this morn.
The first push is easy, a liquid kind of sound.
Just a steady rhythm, going up and going down.
Gotta keep on churnin', with a slow and steady hand.
Keep on churnin', it's the law of the land.
The sun ain't even thinking 'bout risin' from its bed.
Gotta keep on churnin', get the sweet cream spread.
After twenty minutes, my shoulder starts to ache.
The sloshing sound is changing, for goodness gracious sake.
It's getting thick and heavy, the dasher starts to fight.
Pushing through a sleepy pillow in the fading night.
It's a test of patience, a promise you believe.
That something gold is waiting, if you just don't leave.
Gotta keep on churnin', with a slow and steady hand.
Keep on churnin', it's the law of the land.
The sun ain't even thinking 'bout risin' from its bed.
Gotta keep on churnin', get the sweet cream spread.
And then you feel it... the sudden, giving sigh.
The thump becomes a clatter, beneath a watchful eye.
The resistance breaks completely, the buttermilk runs thin.
And little golden islands, that's where the good begins.
Yeah, I kept on churnin'.
Look what my two hands made.
Kept on churnin'.
A debt of patience paid.
Fresh butter on the table.
Before the morning fades.