And somehow got misplaced in my box of fries.
You made me so happy, you made me so gay,
But how did you end up in my order today?
The cook, ever so generous, slaved in the kitchen.
With food all around, it must have been bitchin!
He worked so fast as he scooped up my fries,
He picked you up too, and it slipped past his eyes
He hands me the bag, Whopper, fries and all,
I reach into it, and time seems to stall.
Because when I look at the fries, what else do I see,
But a single ring in a bed of potatoes staring at me.
You’re so much different from your potato counterparts.
They’re straight and you’re round; that’s a good start.
What can I say but you’re one of a kind,
Especially since you left your onion comrades behind.
You certainly tasted like no other,
Definitely different from your long golden brothers.
And there it is, my great ode to you,
And Hopefully next time, they’ll slip in two.