She had a bun in the oven It was a hot, cross bun A bun that was damn hot and angry Just puffing and steaming To be someone It was the fifties There was war in the streets With Mussolini and his gangsters Raiding Greek houses For blood and for meat The day a mother went To claim what was rightfully hers The same baker couldve saved A mother and child from simple hunger There was tradition in the village That when a woman is with babe She is entitled to a free loaf of bread But the baker must see her baby bump on display But when the woman went to a baker He looked her in the stomach and said You do not look very pregnant to me You are so thin, your stomachs flat, lady Your baby is probably dead Will not be wasting my bread on liars He said, woman lowered her head Face like thunder, baker couldve saved A mother and child from simple hunger
baker, bun, stomach, mother, couldve