MY COOKIE LAMENT

 

Oh, what a pleasure they represent

Such sinful pleasure I’ll not repent

Whether foreign fare of strange accent

Or posh ones made for lady and gent

Or those down the bargain basement

Even with broken ones I am content

But I must cease those moments spent

Devouring the cookies heaven sent

And sing loud my sad cookie lament

Of a man left alone in his torment

For as the treat that they represent

I have given cookies up for lent