How I longed for and every morn,
For a decadent slice of cake,
At beginning of every dawn,
Was hooked, my heart did often ache.
Not fussy, fairy cake or bun,
To be sweet, I was for sure born,
Rain, snow, mist, hail or scorching sun,
How I longed for and every morn.
Traveled cities so far and wide,
At seven sharp did often...
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