One fine day, I found a stove,
I also found a pie,
I seasoned it with cloves,
Its pastry was of rye,
Its golden base did fry,
But oh no, alas, it charred,
I had no idea why,
My meal was cruelly marred,
But I had one last wild card,
I knew what I must do,
On top I poured some lard,
It was a frightful stew,
To eat would be a fearsome dare,
His courage would be beyond compare.