“It’s cold in this corner,”
said little Time Horner
while peddling pumpkin pies.
“I think I should warn her
who’ll stand in this corner
after this peddler dies.”
So he scratched an inscription upon the stone wall.
He wrote on that wall, though it was very small.
“So small on the wall she can’t see it at all,”
Tim thought as he cried out, “Oh gall!
It needs something more to point out the way,
To help her to see what I’m wanting to say…
Eureka! I have it! I know what to do!
I am a genius. This much is true!
I’ll hang a pie that’s gone bad on the place,
So when she removes it she’ll look at the space,
And then she shall read all that I writ,
And put on a coat and put on a mit,
And say, ‘a genius right there did sit.’
Yes sir, I have it. I have it. I have it.”
And so with a smirk that went to his ear,
He went through the pies but found with great fear,
All his pies were still good. They were great in fact.
No mold to be found. No crust had a crack!
“What shall I do?” Tim said with a huff.
“I can’t make pies moldy without moldy stuff.
And cracking a crust… That wouldn’t be enough.”
He thought and he thought till he thought his brain’d rot.
Then he sat on his oven- ‘Twas a little too hot!
Then he got the answer he sought.
“I know! A burnt pie! Up there I shall put!
The inside’ll be black. The outside will be soot.”
So he burned up the pie. He burned it real good.
He did all he shouldn’t just as he should.
He then hung the pie over what he’d inscribed,
And was quite proud when looking at what he’d contrived.
But when he turned ’round he saw a girl looking on.
His replacement was there. It was Julie Van Daan.
He felt rather silly having thought he would die,
But when she saw, in embarrassment he started to cry,
She said, “Don’t cry. You passed the time well.
Now you can go home. But… how many pies did you sell?”
