Toast me a Tart
There are certainly days when I don’t feel silly, Funny or happy or plain willy-nilly.
On the days that lack a humorous start, I get out the toaster and toast me a tart.
And once the sugar from that tart kicks in, It gets me all giddy, puts my mind in a spin.
Until suddenly I need to break into song, And go prancing and bouncing and dancing along.
Out the front door I sing and I dance, While the neighbors suspect I’ve got ants in my pants.
But I don’t care, I shall do it some more, I bound as the sweat from my brow starts to pour.
I’ll go for as long as my feet don’t give in, I’ll dance and I’ll prance like stopping’s a sin.
My voice will go dry before I give up, My legs will go weak when I’ve had enough.
Just when I think I could go on all day, The truth of the matter gets in the way.
I haven’t a tart in the fridge or the drawer, I haven’t a tart in the pantry no more.
Now I’m not happy or plain willy-nilly, It is days like these when I don’t feel silly.