No bread,

Nothing to toast,

Can’t make paninis,

That I desire the most,

No teacakes, rolls or baps,

My burgers find no home,

My bacon left exposed,

Cheese is left to roam,

Now I eat from a plate,

As I find I don’t have pittas,

The softest of parcel breads,

Nowhere to put spam fritters,

It’s a real sadness,

No wraps in the bread-bin,

How to carry foodstuffs,

With nothing to hold them in,

But I do have chocolate brioche,

No, it’s not that nice,

Next time I go shopping,

I’ll have to check twice.