There's a heap of pent-up goodness br in the yellow bantam corn, br And I sort o' like to linger br round a berry patch at morn; br Oh, the Lord has set our table br with a stock o' things to eat br An' there's just enough o' bitter br in the blend to cut the sweet, br But I run the whole list over, br an' it seems somehow that I br Find the keenest sort o' pleasure br in a chunk o' raisin pie. br br There are pies that start the water br circulatin' in the mouth; br There are pies that wear the flavor of br the warm an' sunny south; br Some with oriental spices spur br the drowsy appetite br An' just fill a fellow's being br with a thrill o' real delight; br But for downright solid goodness br that comes drippin' from the sky br There is nothing quite the equal of br a chunk o' raisin pie. br br I'm admittin' tastes are diff'runt, br I'm not settin' up myself br As the judge an' final critic of br the good things on the shelf. br I'm sort o' payin' tribute br to a simple joy on earth, br Sort o' feebly testifyin' to its br lasting charm an' worth, br An' I'll hold to this conclusion br till it comes my time to die, br That there's no dessert that's finer br than a chunk o' raisin pie.