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.