Batter-burg Cake

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All and nothing



A crumb,

Never knows another,

      crumb,

As scrumptious is,

For it takes at least,

              a good half slice,

                And a thorough lick of the thumb.

 

But if it were t’other way,

Craving could over come a crumb,

            And imagine it malicious,

            If we’d all bake,

            Cannibal, ballistic cake.

                        Murder!

            Mayhem!

Squeals and shouts of ‘Yummmm!’

Till on the whole of the plate,

            There’s nowt but a crumb.

 

Thanks goodness,

A crumb,

Never knows another.



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