Through mostly vacant streets
A baker from the outskirts of his town
Earned his living peddling sweets
From a ragged cart he dragged around
The clever fox crept close behind
And kept an ever-watchful eye
For a chance to steal a ginger spice cake
Or a boysenberry pie
Looking down was the hungry crow
“When the time is right, I’ll strike
And condescend to the air below
And take whichever treat I like.”
The moment the baker turned around
To shoo the fox off from his cart
The crow swooped down and snatched
A shortbread cookie and a German chocolate tart
Using most unfriendly words
That the village children had not yet heard
The baker shouted threats by canzonette
To curse the crafty bird
“You rotten wooden mixing spoon!
Why you midnight winged raccoon!
You’d better bring those pastries back
You no-good burned-black macaroon!”
The fox approached the tree
Where the bird was perched, delighted in his nest
“Brother crow, don’t you remember me?
It’s your old friend Fox with a humble request.
If you could share just a modest piece,
Seeing as how I distracted that awful man.”
This failed to persuade the bird in the least
So the fox rethought his plan
“Then if your lovely song would grace my ears
Or to even hear you speak
Would ease my pains and fears.”
The crow looked down with a candy in his beak
“Your pearls of wisdom, my good crow,
What a paradise they bring!”
This flattery pleased the insecure bird
So he opened his mouth and began to sing
“Your subtle acclamation’s true!
Best to give praise where praise is due.
Every rook and jay in the Corvidae’s
been raving about me too.
They admire me, one and all.
Must be the passion in my caw!
My slender bill known through the escadrille
My fierce commanding claw!”
I got a walnut brownie brain
And molasses in my veins
Crushed graham cracker crust
My powdered sugared funnel cake cocaine
Let the crescent cookie rise
These carob colored almond eyes
Will rest to see my cashewed princess
In the swirling marble sky
Will rest upon the knee,
Where all divisons cease to be
A root beer float in our banana boat
Across the tapioca sea.
When letting all attachments go
Is the only prayer we know
May it be so, may it be so, may it be so, oh.