Cookies

O, to make a cookie,
Portioned out in rounds.
Crispy little mountains,
Like rocky-prairie mounds.

Let them taste like honey,
With nuts and raisins in.
As they turn to golden,
On an oven tin.

Let the smell come sifting,
Of cinnamon and spice.
A little pinch of this-n-that,
To make them extra nice.

And let there be a-plenty,
No favorite kind to bar.
To heap up all my platers,
And fill my cookie-jar.

O, to make a cookie,
So tasty, and so sweet.
Then I can treat the children,
That pass along my street.


E.P. 1908 - 1989