They call me “Flour Yeaster”cuz I am on the riseThey call me “Onion Slicer”cuz I make women cryThey call me “Complicated”cuz I’m split right in twoThey call me “Blissful Breakfast”cuz I’m your dream come true
shiftless sack of flourbound to no onebut gravityslinking ever securer in your paper pack no thoughts of cookiesor loavesor batches of onion bagels isn’t it time you learneda little responsibility?
i bought a bag of bagelssaid “onion” on the frontbut when i opened them i hadsomething else to confrontfor on each ring of onionwere popping up like weedsunadvertised ingredientsyou’d know as poppy seedsat first i thought “what gives here?”and then said “what the hell?”but soon i realized that this ploywas really just as wellfor if i tried to sell youa meal of borscht and poopi think i’d also choose to focussolely on the soup
Old age can bring you an expanding waist,But with it come wisdom, and refined taste; Ingredients, though, fare less well with time,Learning only of mold, spoilage and slime; So if you seek bagels that please your tongue,Keep your baker old, but his onions young.