Once there was a pie
What a pie, oh my!
It was so very grand
It was served under open sky.
But out of nowhere
Lobelia came
She approached the pie
Without any shame.
Everyone was startled
And very much afraid
That Lobelia would eat the pie
So deliciously made.
The folk started their flight
Out of Lobelia's sight
They did not want to get caught
That wouldn't end up right!
But what came of the precious pie?
Oh, it darted towards the sky!
It went rolling down the hill
No one knows, why.
On and on the pie rolled
It didn't stop until
It hit the mighty Party Tree
at foot of the Hill.
And so a tradition was born
To run down that Hill
And not to be seen by Lobelia
That would end up ill!
((I wrote this poem for the Grand Summer Picnic and the related pie rolling race.))
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