| Her name was Flora Spread and she lived on Hovis Hill
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| Overlooking baker town from the window of her flour mill
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| The bright lights of the city fueled her longing to create
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| With the innovative bakers with whom she knew she could relate
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| She saw the cakes they cooked and the muffins that they made
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| But she kept on beating her bread all the while, feeling betrayed
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| That her mother left her in this mess of yeast, flour and dough
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| She must taste inspiration and stop chewing the bread of woe
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| Woe.
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| Down in baker town lived Victoria Sponge
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| But her cakes weren’t selling so she knew that it was time to take a plunge
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| Into the new, and see things from a brand new view
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| «And yes young miss Flora I am talking to you»
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| «Will you come down that hill of yours and work here in my shop
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| We might have to bake until the ovens pop
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| But I need your creative eye
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| With my wisdom and your innovation
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| Together we can bake the perfect success pie»
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| Success pie
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| Success pie
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| Success pie
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| Bread
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| Bread
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| After just one week in that shop, Flora’s business was booming |
| Her creativity blooming and her customers consuming
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| But looming, on the horizon, lay a rising problem
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| People couldn’t stop eating, and there was nothing that could stop them
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| What was once a people of pretty balanced diets
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| Baker town without it’s bread was revolution without riots
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| Flora closed her shop down, but she knew it was too late
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| And soon enough the population of the town was overweight
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| Overweight
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| Overweight
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| Bread
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| Bread
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| And so, the very next day
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| Flora went back to her mill and opened up her bread shop
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| But it seemed, to Flora’s dismay that no one wanted her bread
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| And she was left alone up on the hill top
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| Victoria sponge kept on baking
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| With recipes she stole from floras notes
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| And Flora’s heart kept on breaking
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| As the cakes continued rising, and the bread became toast |