Her name was Flora Spread
And she lived on Hovis Hill,
Overlooking Baker Town
From the window of her flour mill.
The bright lights of the city
Fueled her longing to create
With the innovative bakers
With whom she knew she could relate.
She saw the cakes they cooked
And the muffins that they made
But she kept on beating her bread,
All the while feeling betrayed
That her mother left her in this mess
Of yeast, flour, and dough;
She must taste inspiration and stop
Chewing the bread of woe-oe-oe-oe-oe.
Down in Baker Town lived Victoria Sponge
But her cakes just weren't selling
So she knew that it was
Time to take a plunge
Into the new
And see things from a brand new view:
"And yes, young miss Flora,
I am talking to you.
Won't you come down that hill of yours
And work here in my shop?
You might have to bake
Until the ovens pop
But I need your creative eye;
With my wisdom and your innovation
Together we can bake
The perfect success pie-ie-ie-ie-ie."
After just one week in that shop,
Flora's business was booming,
Her creativity blooming,
And her customers consuming,
But looming on the horizon
Lay a rising problem:
People couldn't stop eating
And there was nothing that could stop them.
What was once a people
Of pretty balanced diets,
Baker Town without it's bread
Was revolution without riots.
Flora closed her shop down
But she knew it was too late,
And soon enough the population of the town
And so the very next day
Flora went back to her mill
And opened up her bread shop
But it seemed, to Flora's dismay,
That no one wanted her bread
And she was left alone up the hill top.
Victoria Sponge kept on baking
With recipes she stole from Flora's notes
And Flora's heart kept breaking
As the cakes continued rising...
And the bread...