The Fox, The Crow and the Cookie

Through mostly vacant streets A baker from the out-skirts of his town Earned his living peddling sweets from a ragged cart he dragged around The clever fox crept close behind Kept an ever watchful eye For a chance to steal a ginger spicecake Or a boysenberry pie Looking down was the hungry crow "When the time is right, I'll strike And condescend to the earth below And take whichever treat I'd 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 canzonet to curse the crafty bird "You rotten wooden mixing spoon,! Why, you midnight winged raccoon! You better bring those pastries back, you no good, burnt,-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 I distracted that awful man." This failed to persuade the crow at the least So the fox rethought his plan "Then if your lovely song would grace my ears Or to even to hear you speak Would ease my pains and fears!" The crow looked down with the candy in his beak "Your poems of wisdom, my good crow What a paradise they bring!" This flattery pleased the proud bird so He opened his mouth and began to sing "Your subtle acclimation's true Best to give praise where praise is due Every rook and jay in the Corvidae Has been Raven 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!" "Ah, I've got a Walnut-brownie-brain And molasses in my veins Crushed graham cracker crust My powdered sugar funnel cake cocaine Let the crescent cookie rise These carob-colored almond eyes Would rest to see my cashew princess In the swirling marble sky And we'll rest upon the knee Where all divisions 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."