The Ballad of the Onion

Here I sit a little onion,
Sad, lonely and confused.
Thinking of my elder brother,
In a stew he’s just been used.

They peeled his clothing, layer by layer,
His naked body exposed.
They’ll place me on the table soon,
My future’s now foreclosed.

Here I sit a little onion,
Trembling, sad and scared.
I think of all that I have lost,
And know I won’t be spared.

They’ll cut my skin and poke my chin,
They’ll slice me right in two.
They’ll turn me this way and then that,
They’ll want me in their brew.

Yet here I sit a little onion,
Plotting my revenge.
Thinking of my elder brother,
Who’s fate I must avenge.

I’ll not just go into that pot,
I’ll fight with all my might.
I’ll not surrender easily,
I’ll not accept this plight.

So here I sit a little onion,
Accepting I’ve a quest.
Laying on the chopping board,
Accepting I’m not dressed.

My juices flow and squirt about,
And reach into their eye.
My odours linger in the air,
My vapours make them cry.

I’m now no more a little onion,
Neither sad nor blue.
I’m floating with my elder brother,
And the hero of the stew.

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