I think I'm domesticated
'Cause I'm whippin' up pies, bringin' good horno* staples in.
But all around me, everybody's multi-fryin'--
Not wokking, but usin' a fry pan.
But I've sat at the feet of the best culinary sages
Of cuisine, man.
I share zilch with these fryers, with their bird fricassees.
I am a bake man.

I get exasperated 'cause I'm trivialized
By strict vegetarians,
Because their orientation means castigation of lactation--
They blame me for butter-filchin'.
And they call me a rapacious whore,
They decry my trips to the moo-giver store,
I have to flail away and shake them from my door,
Then bake pies and cakes, man.

I'm a bake man, I'm a baked-caked man, I'm a bake man.
I'm a Ding-Dongs man, I'm a Yoo-Hoo man,
Till I'm slaked, man.

My yum fare such as buns that pop up so high
Compares not to store-bought rolls you'd buy.
Campari or rum spikes my nice pumpkin pie.
I am a bake man.

Cake pan's my solution for creating delicious dainties,
Like light Bundt cakes that crumble. And give me half a pint
Of whipping cream and a good beater, and then watch me rustle
Up some frosting that's surely bound to please,
Especially when topped off with shaved coconut meats.
I live a life that is so buttery, as a bake man.

I'm a bake man, I'm a baked-caked man, I'm a bake man.
I'm a Ding-Dongs man; frosting froufrou, man,
It's like lace, man.

In the oven's window I can spy a pie;
The anticipation is frostin' up my thighs;
It comes out with a golden crust for which to die.
Give praise to the bake man!

The oven's free, for a cake pan, girl.
So won't you come and join me in my bake-man world?

I'm a bake man, I'm a baked-caked man, I'm a bake man.
I'm a dink-dong, man; need a woman, man--
A bake mate, man.

I'll use marzipan; she'll use whole grains
For treats that storm pleasure centers of brains. . .
Add bananas to give them a potassium domain--
She and the bake man.

I'm a bake man with a bake mate, man, I'm a straight man.
I'm a sling-schlong man, I'm a spew-dew man,
Never slaked, man.

When she rebuffs me for eight days or more,
I go down and pry open the oven door,
I pull out the cream puffs and give them a core bore
And mate with the cake, man.


*horno: oven (Spanish)