The Muffin Man is seated at the table

In the laboratory of the Utility Muffin

Research Kitchen . . .

Reaching for an oversized chrome spoon

He gathers an intimate quantity of dried muffin remnants

And brushing his scapular aside

Proceeds to dump these inside of his shirt. . .

He turns to us and speaks:

"Some people like cupcakes better. I for one

Care less for them!"

Arrogantly twisting the sterile canvas snoot

of a fully charged icing anointment utensil

He pools forth a quarter-ounce green rosette (oh ah yuk yuk.

let's try that again . . .!)

He pools forth a quarter-ounce green rosette

Near the summit of a dense but radiant muffin

of his own design.

Later he says: "Some people . . . some people like cupcakes exclusively,

While I myself say there is naughl nor ought there be

Nothing so exalted on the faceof God's grey earth

As that prince of foods . . . The Muffin!"



Girl you thoughl he was a man

Bul he was a muffin

He hung around lill you found

That he didn't know nuthin'

Girl you thought he was a man

But he only was a-puffin'

No cries is heard in the night

As a result of him stuffin'