so I got it in my head that soon I’d be fed,
but I was misled.
Now, I dread that this newly wed,
has bred false hope, and instead
the idea is in the red.
I pled with my coed,
“You made your bed! Now bake my bread!”
but she fled.
Alas, the last thread of buttery spread,
embedded in my brain has been shredded.
The idea is dead.