[Verse 1: Country-rock male lead, stomping live drums, rowdy country-rock verse] I moved to town in August and I joined the firehouse crew They said bring a pot to chili night, it's what the new guys do I got my granddad's recipe, three peppers and a beer Cooked it low for fourteen hours, best I've made in years But the fellas got real quiet when I told 'em what I'd bring Said you know about the Hask place, I said I don't know a thing Said she wins it every Halloween, blue ribbon on the wall And whoever comes in second, well, they don't come back at all Packed up overnight, they said, no forwardin' address Truck still in the driveway and the bed still made, I guess I laughed and stirred my pot and said that's a story for the kids Then I saw her by the napkins, liftin' every single lid [Hook: Country-rock male lead, full band, big sing-along country-rock hook] Secret ingredient, ain't nobody can tell What she puts in that pot, but it's cookin' real well Secret ingredient, take a bite and you'll know Don't you ever come in second at the firehouse show [Verse 2: Country-rock male lead, stomping live drums, rowdy country-rock verse] Judges start a-tastin', workin' slow along the line Fire chief takes a spoon of mine and says now that is fine She's got a little notebook and she's writin' down my name And every judge who loves my chili's throwin' fuel on the flame So I grab the jar of cinnamon, I grab the sugar too Grab the pickle juice, the coffee grounds, the chief's old tennis shoe Dump it all in while the judges are distracted by the pie Stir it up and serve it hot and look her in the eye [Hook: Country-rock male lead, full band, big sing-along country-rock hook] Secret ingredient, ain't nobody can tell What she puts in that pot, but it's cookin' real well Secret ingredient, take a bite and you'll know Don't you ever come in second at the firehouse show [Verse 3: Country-rock male lead, rowdy country-rock verse, the crowd groaning] Second round of tastin' and the chief turns kind of green Judges spittin' in their napkins sayin' worst they've ever seen Dead last, dead last, they hang a wooden spoon on me And I'm whoopin' like a man who just got out of the penitentiary Mrs. Hask takes the blue again and everybody claps Fella in the runner-up spot is sweatin' through his cap Then she taps the microphone and smiles at all of us Says I'm switchin' up the recipe, now don't y'all make a fuss Says this year I'm tryin' somethin' new, I'm changin' how I cook I'm takin' last place home tonight, and gives my spoon a look [Final Hook: Country-rock male lead, full band, ladle clang, a big steel ladle clang lands on every downbeat as the crowd sings] Secret ingredient, ain't nobody can tell What she puts in that pot, but it's cookin' real well Secret ingredient, take a bite and you'll know Don't you ever come in second at the firehouse show [End]
