I love the sweet taste of the honey buns, that are made in my neighborhood,
They are are always honey yummy,
And, fit perfectly in my tummy,
Some day, when I am older, I'll make honey buns, for now, I just cut wood.
Before the quaint, horse drawn wagon, climbed the old mill road hill,
It was loaded with dry, ancient saw dust, from the old mill,
For apartments, the mill property had been acquired,
All the employees, young and old, were instantly fired,
The last asset, saw dust, was bought by a farm, growing dill.