In a hot smoky kitchen, on a job bound for nowhere
I met up with a scrambler, we were both too tired to eat.
So we took turns a starin’, out the window at the orders
'Til boredom overtook us, and he began to speak.
He said, son, I’ve made a life, out of cookin’ people breakfast
Knowing what they ordered, over easy or hard fried.
So if you don’t mind my sayin’, I can see your out of bacon
And for a taste of your Pepsi, I’ll give you some advice.
So I handed him my bottle, and he drank down my last swallow
Then he palmed the orange cap, he pitched the empty out of sight.
And the grill got deathly quiet, and his face lost all expression
Said, if your gonna cook the eggs boy, you gotta learn to make ‘em right.
You got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em
Know when the yolks are set, and know when it runs.
You’ll never pick the shells out, if you crack flat on the table
There’ll be kosher salt a’waitin, when the scramblin’s done.
Now every scrambler knows, that the secret to an omlette
Is pulling it off early, this tip I hope you’ll keep.
‘Cause every eggs a winner, and every yolks an oozer
And the best that you can hope for is to fry in your sleep.
So when he finished flippin’, he turned back towards the window,
Crushed out the order slip, and went to take a leak.
And somewhere in the break room, the scrambler he was sleepin’
But in his mangled words I found an egg that I could eat.
You got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em
Know when the yolks are set, and know when it runs.
You’ll never pick the shells out, if you crack flat on the table
There’ll be kosher salt a’waitin, when the scramblin’s done.
You got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em
Know when the yolks are set, and know when it runs.
You’ll never pick the shells out, if you crack flat on the table
There’ll be kosher salt a’waitin, when the scramblin’s done.
