Two pies sitting in the sunset,
There’s one chicken and one beef.
They’re cooling on the window sill,
They’ll surely come to grief.
The smell intoxicates me,
It wafts across the yard.
Better shut the window, Betty,
Or you’ll have to stand on guard.
Betty moves to shut the window,
A mass scramble but too late!
She’s left with just one beef pie,
And an empty, spinning plate.
“That blummin’ cat!” Betty screams,
And rushes into the yard.
The cat is nowhere to be seen,
Though Betty looks both long and hard.
A noise behind a privet bush,
A giggle, sounds suspicious.
Tommy Hare loves chicken pies,
And Betty’s are delicious!
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