Used to be a sneaky, wicked pleasure.
Sour straws were for sinners.
But down the way there's a factory.
Hundreds of workers are on their feet for hours on day.
Peeling, rolling and coating those sour straws. 
Back home I couldn't mention sour straws at the dinner table.
Papa say that's junk food.
Junk food got men and women showing up,
before dawn to tend to their production and distribution.
Mama say she love to watch  the sour straw workers working.
Rolling those sour straws. 
She say it's the smell of green sour apple and red cherry that she enjoys. But I have never seen mama eat one.
Papa say you mind your business
and eat your food at the dinner table.
After dinner Papa's taking us to get some of those sour straws.
He says there's a time for dinner and a time for dessert.