The Bagelier's Ballad

Oh, what a terrible tragic thing
A loss of life so young.
This terrible horrible tragic thing
Will always be of, sung.
This freshly boiled bagel’s fate,
The dirt that on him clung.

The bagelier’s expression fell,
He fortuitously flung
A box of boiled toruses
(A careless bagel bung.)
Oh, how regret tore through his heart!
All air soon left his lung.

Out of the box flew one poor child,
The thud in his ears rung.
The baby bagel’s wretched fate!
He flew out of his pung!
And now he lives by the floor grate,
The place where he was slung.

In future times, the bagelier,
When he has grown unyoung,
Will know that boxes should not be
On counters overhung.