How to Make a Chicken Taco Song 
Listen up, y’all, it ain’t too tough
Gonna make a taco that’s good enough
Step by step, follow along
By the end, you'll be singin' this song
(Choosing the Chicken)
You wanna start right, don’t get it wrong
Get boneless thighs, ‘cause they’re nice and strong
Skip the breast, it's a little too dry
Dark meat’s got the juice—that’s why!
 (Cooking the Chicken)
Now heat that pan, get the oil hot
Put a little butter, yeah, that hits the spot
Lay the chicken down, hear that sizzle sound
Flip it when it's golden brown
Ohhh, flip it high, flip it low
Cook it fast, cook it slow
Let the taste take control
Now chop it up—it’s taco gold!
(Seasoning the Meat)
Salt and pepper, garlic too
Cumin gives that Tex-Mex groove
Paprika for a smoky kick
And chili powder—spice it thick!
 (Picking the Tortilla)
Flour or corn, that’s up to you
But street-sized tortillas make it true
Warm 'em up on open flame
Till they puff up—that’s the game!
Ohhh, flip it high, flip it low
Cook it fast, cook it slow
Let the taste take control
Now chop it up—it’s taco gold!
(The Toppings)
Fresh-cut onions, diced just right
Cilantro makes the flavor bright
Lime juice squeezed, let it rain
Avocado smooths the pain
Shred some lettuce, throw some cheese
Cotija crumbles with a breeze
Pico de gallo or salsa red
Drizzle it all, full speed ahead
Now hold it right, don’t let it spill
Tilt your head, take time, chill
First bite—oh, that’s divine
Second bite—taste so fine
Chicken taco best Taco done
Now go and make another one
Sing it loud, cook it right
Taco time—every night!
Taco (Taco)
Taco (Taco)
Taco (Taco).......TACO!
Taco time—every night!

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How to Make a Chicken Taco Song by The Indivisibles

In the shadows of Apache Junction, at the foot of the majestic Superstition Mountains, sits a weathered hacienda. This desert oasis is home to an enigmatic figure, a songwriter whose journey reads like a long, dusty road of honky-tonk bars and college cafeterias. He wasn't chasing fame or glitter; instead, he chose the soul-crushing beauty of music for music's sake.

Years spent hunched over sticky barroom tables and scribbling lyrics on napkins earned him a reputation—not in the spotlight but in the back rooms where deals are made. He wrote melodies that found their way into the hearts of stars who had lost their own muse. He sold his creations for cash, with no recognition, but the whisper of his songs carried the weight of his soul.

Finally, he bought this piece of desert paradise—a stable income from his timeless songs allowed him to live comfortably, if anonymously. Here in this hacienda, with his family beside him and the mountains as his backdrop, he found the peace to write hits under his own name. He chuckled at the irony that now, without chasing fame, he could create music that brought him joy.

In the end, it was never about the spotlight. It was about the journey, the stories, and the songs that wrote themselves through his life. As the sun set behind the Superstitions, casting long shadows over the hacienda, he strummed his guitar and sang—content, unknown, and unburdened by the world's gaze.


Copyright 2019 Edwin H. Balder

I may be dead when fame comes but my real glory was always JULIE & The Kids. Thank you for such love

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