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(amazon affiliate)
Out in the woods of the Great White North,
A tap in the maple brings liquid forth.
It trickles down slow in the freezing cold,
A sticky-sweet torrent of liquid gold.
I bought a fresh bottle to top my stack,
Then poured so much on that I strained my back.
It dripped off the plate and onto the floor, And glued my left slipper right to the door.
I tried to wipe up with a paper towel,
Which stuck to my hand like a feathered owl.
I opened the fridge, but my sleeve got caught,
Now I’m trapped in a web that the syrup wrought.
The Mounties arrived with a rescue team,
They sprayed hot hot water and heavy steam.
They said, “It’s a hazard, a sticky trap!
You’ve been taken hostage by Canadian sap!”
So pass me a pancake and pour it high,
I’ll eat till I’m glued to the ceiling sky.
It’s sweet, it’s delicious, it’s thick and pure—
A mess that no paper towel can cure!
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(Amazon Affiliate)
