“Lordie me! It’s dashing cold
And my stomach’s hungry”
Said the fat old cook.
So she glanced at her recipes,
Flipping through her stained book.
And then, her eyes lit up.
Quickly she thumped into some flour
A dash of ginger, treacle, and spice;
And a pinch of salt,
And rolled it into a firm dark yellow dough.
And then with her rolling pin
And knife she crafted out of several lumps:
The head, body, arms and legs
Of a Gingerbread man rummy lookin’
Of caraway seeds were his eyes
And of raisin was his smiling mouth.
” Now, doesn’t he have mischief lurking in his eyes.”
The cook mumbled to herself under her breath,
If mistresses heard her, they shrug it off
as nothing but a pack of lies.
The oven was ready,
And so was the rummy Gingerbread man!
In he went, and firmly were the doors shut.
The cooked nodded off tiredly, all to forget.
Until the out wafted a sweet scent,
“Lawdie me it’s burnt”, the cook screamed
From within the oven his eyes wickedly gleamed.
The moment the oven opened
Hop, skip, and jump
The Gingerbread man leapt and outjumped.
Slyly he teased the heavy cook,”Run,run, run.
I’m outa of your sight afore you look!”
So ran the Gingerbread man
As fast as he could,
He cook shrieked and bawled
And chased it through the fields, town, and house
Tillie the dog too ran in sport
Chasing Minnie the cat without a thought.
The cook’s heavy chest heaved and sighed
Teary, dumb stricken, she sobbed at her loss.
But nothing could stop the merry game
Until a red fox silently crept in,
And pounced upon the Gingerbread man,
And disappeared into air thin.
© Mumtaz N Khorakiwala
This story is a children’s folk tale.