Please look inside my sinless soul
And answer me this riddle:
How much of me is hot as air,
What substance fills my middle?
Think back: was wholemeal bread about
When I first rose to fame?
Did margarine possess such clout?
Was fast food in the frame?
Did ordinary folk feel I
Could speak their daily language?
Y'know, I feel that, smart and spry,
I changed their daily sandwich.
Did I make errors? That's your call.
Was my bread over-crusted?
Did Mother's Pride precede my fall?
Did my ham need more mustard?
That's it from me. It's time to leave,
To put the bread-knife down.
You'll miss me, lick your lips, and grieve –
But here's a Slice Of Brown.