A little piece of cake...

Dear Congressman,

Please don't ask me where this one came from, but I have had Elvis's version of Mac Davis's "In the Ghetto" stuck in my head for the last few days. But I prefer my version, influenced by my youthful days in France. As always, no accounting for taste!

(to the tune of "In the Ghetto")

As the snow flies
On a cold and gray Parisian morn'
A creation from a pâtisserie is born
It's a gâteaux

And the pastry chef cries
'cause if there's one thing that he don't need
it's a cake that tastes like chicken feed
It's a gâteaux

People, don't you understand
the cake just needs a helping hand
or it'll grow to be stale one day
Take a look at you and me,
are we hungry enough to see,
do we simply turn our heads
and walk off to the buffet

Well the world turns
and the cake with that no one chose
sits in the window as its age starts to show
It's a gâteaux

And as it starts to rot
the chef finally gives up
and he has to admit
the cake was no good as it tastes like s*&$
It's a gâteaux

Then one night in desperation
He flings open the rear door
Walks to the garbage, opens a can,
ponders for a sec, and then dumps the whole pan
And his ego cries

And then crowd gathers 'round the forsaken food
cuz their homeless and hungry and basically screwed
And want some gâteaux

As his cake is devoured
in an alley on a gray Parisian night,
he'll bake another cake til he gets it right
It's a gâteaux