What Possessed Them
Twelve and twenty black birds baked in a pie
Sounds to me disgusting, would probably make me die
I hate those big blackbirds that pilfer on the street
I can't imagine that they would ever taste sweet
What kind of baker would bake them in a pie
Sounds like he was drinking or probably getting high
I like my pies with fresh fruit or creamy custard
I can't even imagine a pie that's filled with black birds
Sometimes those authors of Mother Goose rhymes
Must have been with Edgar cutting up some lines
Or maybe with that Lewis Carroll smoking opium
For the things they wrote back then were more scary than fun
Living in a shoe, or being Jack so quick
It seems ridiculous to jump over a candlestick.
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