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.