The Gingercake Man

The Gingercake man was a lump of brown dough Till a great rolling pin was run over him, so! To flatten him out, and he lay there so thin, His bones almost popped through the holes in his skin; They sifted him over with flour and spice, And made him some eyes with two kernels of rice, And took some dried currants, the biggest and best, To make him some buttons for closing his vest.

The Gingercake man wabbled this way and that, When they seeded a raisin and made him a hat That was stuck on his head in the jauntiest way, For a Gingercake man is not made every day. They stuck in some cloves for his ears; yes, indeed! And made him some teeth out of caraway seed, And when he was finished they buttered a pan-- The biggest they had--for the Gingercake man.

Then into the oven they put him to bake Until he was hard and could stand and not break His legs when he stood; and they set him to cool Until all the children should come home from school. And oh, the delight and the wonder and glee, When mother invited the children to see,

All sifted with sugar and out of the pan, The good-natured face of the Gingercake man.

But alas and alas! ’Tis a short life and sweet Is the Gingercake man’s--for they ate off his feet, They broke off his arms with the hungriest zest, And picked all the buttons from out of his vest; They nibbled his legs off and ate up his hat, And everything edible went just like that, Till the cloves and the kernels of rice you may scan As all that is left of the Gingercake man!