It was biscuits as usual in the Last Dunk Saloon
Garibaldis spitting raisins in a mug-shaped spittoon
a Party Ring disintegrating over the sickly-sweet tune
some Shortbread was banging out in the fancy piano room

There was a Jaffa Cake in an orange choker playing Teatime poker
with a Bourbon, a Malted Milk and a Fig Roll in a bowler
a Chocolate Hobnob – that oaty high-roller –
and a spicy little Ginger Nut, the selection pack joker

Suddenly the pink wafer saloon doors slammed
The pack of plain Digestives on the nearest table scrammed
A Custard Cream screamed, a Nice said Goddamn
as the mug of Earl Grey slipped from his sugary hand

A Chocolate Finger rolled behind a teapot and hid
Two Tunnocks got flummoxed and skid
down the counter to a tin, pulling on the lid
crapping their wrappers to see the Rich Tea Kid

‘Tea time!’ said The Kid, flexing his crumbs
‘I’m hungry for action and I don’t mean buns
I’m done with the lot of you biscuity bums
There’s a plate with your name on it out in the sun’

‘It seems to me your behaviour is somewhat unsavoury
and would not stand scrutiny from no Blue Riband jury’
The bar fell silent. The Kid looked in fury
at a Chocolate Chip Cookie straight out of Missouri.

The Cookie stood up. He was heavy and rich
as hunkily crunchy as a sonofabitch
‘Someone needs putting you back in the fridge’
said The Kid, but the little pressed letters on his plain face twitched

The whole bar rolled out to get the best seat
as the Cookie and the Kid faced off in the street
The Kid looked snappy in the midday heat
But the Cookie dunked twice and he lost his feet

The biscuits tossed their silvery spoons
and carried ol’ Chocolate Chip back in the saloon
‘Meet the new Sheriff!’ they said – but too soon
five weeks later he met The Macaroon

– o O o –

Cut to a Bread Wheel rockin’ on the porch
of the Our Lady of the Savoury Cheese n’Cracker Church
strumming a guitar made of focaccia and such
singing ‘I never did like a sweet biscuit over much’