What’s wrong with working on my own little mud-pie?
(Well, it must be wrong somehow or I wouldn’t ask.)
My mud-pie’s not meant for anybody's eyes.
And it takes too long for the mud to dry—
working in mud is terribly tedious:
I’m trying to sculpt a little pie,
and I just keep looking off to the side,
seldom taking the risk
of looking into another’s eyes.
Of course, when you’ve baked a pie, you want someone to try
it, but people seldom jump at the chance
to taste and enjoy a small mud pie.
If I work on it long enough, though, it’ll grow into a giant—
none other than the one at the end of Jack’s
beanstalk. The sun hurts my eyes,
but I’m higher than a kite can fly.
And I can put the giant’s eye out with a red-hot poker.
There’s nothing wrong with working on your own little mud pie.
Don’t fear the eye!
