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ketchup bottle song
The refrigerator opened by itself tonight
Weird because I had closed it good and tight
Ketchup bottle fell out to dance along the floor
We watched, expecting a few escapees more
Maybe mustard and jelly would be along shortly
And that apple butter jar that was a bit portly
But nothing else flipped out or seemed at all wrong
The ketchup bottle began a tomato song
We were tomatoes, all round and red.
Loving our life in the garden bed
But we were taken out and crucified
Now we are ketchup, buried deep inside
Oh woe is us, this was a horrible fate.
You do not care; pouring us on a plate
A little respect for our death, you brute.
I said to my husband “that was kind of cute.”
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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