She's a young thing and cannot leave her mother

Billy Boy, Billy Boy! It seems to me there used to be a saying about the best perfume being the aroma of home-cooking, but I can't seem to track it down. Not that I actually participate in home-cooking or flowery fragrances if I can help it. And what about that famous New Car Smell?

I'm scentsitive. Beauty and cleaning product smells really bother me. Cooking smells aren't as aggravating. Still, the aroma of home-cooking is trailing me, literally. Home is a euphemism here for grocery deli counter:

Oh, where have you been, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Oh, where have you been, Charming Billy?
I have been to seek a wife,
She's the joy of my life,
She's a young thing
And cannot leave her mother.

Did she ask you to come in, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Did she ask you to come in, Charming Billy?
Yes, she asked me to come in,
There's a dimple in her chin.
She's a young thing
And cannot leave her mother.

Can she make a cherry pie, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Can she make a cherry pie, Charming Billy?
She can make a cherry pie,
Quick as a cat can wink an eye,
She's a young thing
And cannot leave her mother.

How old is she, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
How old is she, Charming Billy?
Three times six and four times seven, Twenty-eight and eleven,
She's a young thing
And cannot leave her mother.


I bought a rotisserie chicken at Albertsons this afternoon. It was the apricot honey glaze $4.99 version. Loaded the groceries into the trunk of the Buick.

Aaaaahhhhhh. That chicken smells delicious. The Buick smells delectable. The chicken has flipped over in the trunk of the Buick, and there's apricot honey glaze soaking into the floor. The vent circulation is better than one might expect. Bon apetit!