The Baker Man

O WHO do you think is the baker man, And how do you think he makes his cake? He mixes his dough in an old tin can And puts it out in the sun to bake. He pats pats pats at his little mud pies; He rounds them and rolls them and looks so wise.

The baker man is my brother Ned, And out in the garden he’s working away, Right by the scarlet geranium bed, And his hands and his face are just covered with clay, As he pats pats pats at his little mud pies; As he rounds them and rolls them and looks so wise.