'would you like a sweet' said mother to her son
'its worthingtons original a nice and solid one
then for a special treat you can have a bun
after that you can go for a very long run'
'thank you mother for worthingtons yum
thank you for the sticky bun mum
however i do not appreciate this crum
and i detest this rule of thumb'
look my dearest hot cross bun
im sorry your my favorite son
i'll always be proud of what you won
one pound fifty when you drew the sun
but thats when i was
one
and now i'm
forty one
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem