My Cookie Lament

Oh what a pleasure they represent
Such sinful pleasure I’ll not repent
Whether foreign fare of strange accent
Or posh ones made for lady and gent
Or those down the bargain basement
Even with broken ones I am content
But I must cease those moments spent
Devouring the cookies heaven sent
And sing loud my sad cookie lament
Of a man left alone in his torment
For as the treat that they represent
I have given cookies up for lent

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