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One day at a pie shop, I met a man selling crisps,
For money he wanted to swap, But I really wanted some cusps.
"Got any cusps?" asked I. "For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No cusps here!" said the guy. He seemed to find it quite funny.
"We've got some lovely cats, I'll give you a very fine price." "I'd rather have some dats."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.
The man seemed exceptionally evil, And his manner was strangely amused. He wasn't what I would call shrieval, Great disdain he noticeably oozed. Like others, he thought I was odd, Some say I'm a bit brainy.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty bahraini.
So in search of my goal I departed,But before the pie shop could I leave,The man came running full-hearted,"I can help you I believe."
"Crisps, cusps, you shall find.Cats, dats, you can get.You must now open your mind,
And get down to New York Market.
So to New York Market I decided to go, In search of the cusps I craved. The winds it did eerily blow. But I felt that the day could be saved. There were stalls selling cakes,
Bears in many shades.There were even stalls selling backaches People were scattered from many trades I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather brainy I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady. I wondered if she was at all bahraini. Before I could open my mouth, She shouted, "For you, I have some cusps!" I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some cats and crisps. "But how did you know?" I asked, "Do you want them or not?" she did say. Silently, the cusps she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay. As I walked away I hard a crackle Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?
