The Butcher, The Baker, The Candlestick Maker by Kristen Gundlach

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The Butcher, The Baker, The Candlestick Maker
by Kristen Gundlach

The butcher, 
The baker, 
The candlestick maker 
Had a secret they shared 
At the end of the long weary workday
Of toil, of laughter, of prayer
They gathered together, come-hither
With a fiery look in their eyes
For the cookies that they would be baking
All under the moon lights disguise 
For the butcher, you see, 
Was quite frightened 
To tuck away his clever and vats 
Shifting into a messy dough puncher
Tossing flours and pressing cakes flat.
The candlestick maker was quiet, 
A resolved, peaceful-like man 
Who dolled himself in bright glitter 
To complete the dough orders at hand
He'd rub his wax-hardened fingers 
Loosen his collar and tie 
He kneaded the dough with a simper
And a twinkle in his eye 
The baker was not a man at all,  
but a woman quite clever and sharp 
She found herself quite elated 
To host this grande party at dark

So the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, 
Huddle together to dream, 
warming the yeast, 
stirring the milk 
All under sweet Dublin’s moon gleam

Lest it be the smell of the wild bread rising
Or the crisp of the cookies toast edge
Perhaps all too strong in their temptings
To keep the two men on their hedge 
So keep a look out for a butcher 
With a swagger and an uneven cut 
singing show tunes under his breath 
And growing a rather large gut 
The candlestick maker, my trusty friends,
he may just be harder to find 
Perhaps look for the glint of the glitter
It might just catch your eye.

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