Old Poetry Poetry • Poets • Essays • Forums •

The Baker


I'd like to be a baker, and come when morning breaks,
Calling out, "Beeay-ko!" (that's the sound he makes) -
Riding in a rattle-cart that jogs and jolts and shakes,
Selling all the sweetest things a baker ever bakes;
Currant-buns and brandy-snaps, pastry all in flakes;
  But I wouldn't be a baker if ...
      I couldn't eat the cakes.
        Would you?

In a published book

Leave a guest comment (subject to review)

    : Comment:

    Name: (required)
    Email: (required, hidden from spam)