Ted’s been baking cakes all day.
My word, they’re looking grand.
Some greaseproof paper to peel off,
Allow an hour to stand.
Oops-a-daisy, greaseproof’s slipped
‘Twixt oven and fridge freezer.
He’ll have to spend a mo and go
On hunt for a retriever.
An implement that’s thin will do
To squeeze down through the crack.
His knife’s too short, a stick’s too thick
To get the item back.
Eureka – skewers taped and stuck
Together ought to work.
A shove, a push, so nearly there,
A twist combined with jerk.
Oh dear, they’ve disappeared from view.
He’ll get the magnet. It
Is on one end of what extends
But it’s too fat to fit.
He pauses now to unscrew tip,
Three turns, well maybe four,
Just then the end with spring flies off
And shoots across the floor.
Generally, Ted is a bear
Who oozes joy not anger.
We’ll give him time to climb the stairs
In search of metal hanger
Or, better still, the chimney brush.
Its rod, ductile and bending,
Can manage what the rest have not
To bring a happy ending.
Not only does a poke and prod
Of chimney rod bring out
Lost paper and two skewers
But also last year’s sprout.
An unexpected outcome,
Footnote to this epistle,
Is that the many cakes Ted’s baked
Are now bedecked with bristle.