Where have you gone my lad?
Your boots, kerchief and hat?
As dawn came near and confirmed our fear,
There were no pastries left.
Curse that creamed-filled sponge cake.
Curse the thing we love.
It took our dreams and broke the seams,
that linked happiness and trust.
We should have treated you better.
Cared more that you were gone.
Those times we chewed you,
spewed you, and deep fried you,
can never be reclaimed.
The Twinkie is in its grave.
This cowboy laid to rest.
Tons of despair over this little affair,
but the deed is finally done.
Where have you gone my lad?
Your boots, kerchief, and hat?
As dusk sets in and shivers our skin,
We’ll always remember your love.