Cinnamon-Raisin French Toast.
Maple syrple, microwaved hot.
Secret ingredient,
Secret no more!
A splash of vanilla in the batter.

We chat about this n' that.
About the play,
She didn't love it.

About the daughter-in-law's cleaning skills,
A good housekeeping award, she ain't gonna win.

Her grandma from Austria,
Seeing ugly would call it
Unlovely.

I am thinking,
Your genetic humanity, betrayed.
What a great poem that would make....

She is thinking, boy,
You needs haircut bad.
But she don't nag,
As my hair has drifted to one side,
Instead she just calls me
Gumby....

There is always a way.
There is always a way,
To say it softer,
Say it easy on the ears,
When you can't say nothing.

It takes practice.
It takes into account,
Nobody at this here breakfast table is
Perfect exceptin' for the
Cinnamon-Raisin French Toast,
Which has left the table.

It takes a splash of vanilla in your
humanity,
To say it right,
When sometimes, what needs saying is the
Unlovely.