The Muffin Man is seated at the table
In the laboratory of the Utility Muffin Research Kitchen . .
Reaching for an oversized chrome spoon
He gathers an intimate quantity of dried muffin remnants
And, brushing his scapular aside
Proceeds to dump these inside of his shirt . .
He turns to us and speaks:
"Some people like cupcakes better. I, for one
Care LESS for them!"
Arrogantly twisting the sterile canvas snoot of a fully charged icing-anointment utensil
He poots forth a quarter-ounce green rosetta
Near . .
(Let's try that again . . . )
He poots forth a quarter-ounce green rosetta
Near the summit of a dense-but-radiant muffin of his own design
Later he says:
"Some people . . . some people like cupcakes exclusively
While I myself say there is naught, nor ought there be
Nothing so exalted on the face of God’s grey earth
As that Prince of Foods . . . The Muffin!"

Girl, you thought he was a man
But he was a muffin
He hung around till you found
That he didn't know nuthin'
Girl, you thought he was a man
But he only was a-puffin’
No cries is heard in the night
As a result of him stuffin'

Girl, you thought he was a man
But he was a muffin
No cries is heard in the night
As a result of him stuffin'