Our love is wrapped
In a gunny sack,
Tied together,
Yet, let go for the day
To run in a magical three-legged race,
Here at the bonny fair.

And if we stumble across the line
Just in time to be first place,
We can scurry to get whipped cream on our faces,
And hurry and eat the wares
That are all lined up
For the pie eating contest
And save those professional contenders the worry,
Here at the bonny fair.

For their work is our pleasure,
And we treasure the things
That others have disregarded,
Our sacred, discarded hearts
Still beat, still sing,
Still plead to find their lost ribbons,
And their lost ways,
Here at the bonny fair.

-jenn