The Ballad of Marian's Scones
by Katherine Ashewode, "The Pocket Bard"
Pennsic 37 (2008)
A lovely woman in our camp makes scones on a regular basis. They're good. Really, really good. Apparently the official response to her, when she asks if people like them is, "These are dreadful. They should be wiped off the face of the Earth so you can try another batch. I will do my part by selflessly hurling myself upon the unexploded scones." I thought that this needed to be remembered in verse.
Hear the tale of Marian's scones that sit within the bowl.
Some are made with shredded cheese and some with currants whole.
Though some have praised them for their taste, they lie to you, I swear.
The scones are simply dreadful things, at best a middling-fair.
So dreadful are the scones she makes, they must be wiped away,
So she can try another batch upon another day.
I'll do my part to save the world: I'll eat a-one or two,
Or more if it should come to pass the eaters are too few.
I'll hurl myself upon the scones, selfless as I am,
And only ask in recompense, would you please pass the jam?