(for a cake-loving birthday boy)
Oh, a Chelsea bun’s not my kind of fun
and even Swiss roll just leaves me cold.
There’s only one cake named after a place
that I want to shove right into my face…
Battenberg! Yes, that’s the fellow,
pastel pink and golden yellow,
like a sunrise on my tongue –
let me gobble every crumb
of its two-tone sponge, and apricot jam
holding that coating of marzipan
wrapped around as a delicate crust,
with some sugar, lightly dusted.
I really feel there’s nothing nicer
than to cut myself a slice – or two!
Don’t think I’m being greedy –
it’s the Battenberg, calling me.
The perfect companion for a cuppa,
it’s guaranteed to cheer you up –
try peeling the marzipan – don’t make a mess!
Slice it finely for a game of cake chess –
and if that’s too hard, well, you can cut those
slices in half and play dominoes –
or chop a whole cake into logs, and then ya
can have a go at Battenberg Jenga!
Yes, it’s the cake that keeps on giving –
hollow one out, so that I can live in
a tiny, shiny, Battenberg palace –
just like something out of Alice
Don’t you understand?
Maybe it’s just me –
my Battenberg and I need some privacy…