Bm               F#m               A              E                Bm
  Through mostly vacant streets, a baker from the outskirts of his town
           F#m             A                      E                Bm
Earned his living peddling sweets from the ragged cart he dragged around.
           F#m               A             E             Bm
The clever fox crept close behind, kept an ever-watchful eye
                F#m            A               E           Bm
For a chance to steal a ginger spice cake or a boysenberry pie.

        F#m                 A                       E           Bm
Looking down was the hungry crow, "When the time is right, I'll strike
         F#m                  A                 E              Bm
And condescend to the earth below and take whichever treat I'd like."
               F#m           A                 E                Bm
The moment the baker turned around to shoo the fox off from his cart,
                 F#m                 A                       E                A
The crow swooped down and snatched a shortbread cookie and a German chocolate tart.

[Chorus 1]
                      E                                           D
Using most unfriendly words that the village children had not yet heard,
                             E                              A
the baker shouted threats by canzonette to curse the crafty bird.
                          E                                D
"You rotten wooden mixing spoon! Why you midnight winged racoon!
                                E                                  Bm
You better bring those pastries back, you no-good burned-black macaroon!"

[Instrumental]
F#m  A  E  Bm   x2

[Verse 2]
          F#m                         A                   E              Bm
The fox approached the tree where the bird was perched, delighted in his nest.
         F#m                      A                        E                   Bm
"Brother Crow, don't you remember me? It's your old friend Fox with a humble request.
             F#m                 A                     E                  Bm
If you could share just a modest piece, seeing as I distracted that awful man."
     F#m                    A                         E                 Bm
This failed to persuade the crow in the least, so the fox rethought his plan.

              F#m               A                    E             Bm
"Then if your lovely song would grace my ears, or to even hear you speak,
              F#m                   A                       E            Bm
Would ease my pains and fears." The crow looked down with a candy in his beak.
               F#m             A            E             Bm
"Your poems of wisdom, my good crow, what a paradise they bring!"
           F#m                  A                      E                  A
This flattery pleased the proud bird, so he opened his mouth and began to sing:

[Chorus 2]
                           E                                         D
"Your subtle acclamation's true! Best to give praise where praise is due.
                          E                               A
Every rook and jay in the Corvidae's been raving about me too.
                        E                              D
They admire me, one and all. Must be the passion in my caw!
                                  E                                Bm
My slender bill known through the escadrille, my fierce commanding claw!"

[Bridge]
A  Bm  A  Bm
A  D   E  A

[Chorus 3]
                       E                         D
I got a walnut brownie brain, and molasses in my veins,
                                 E                              A
Crushed graham cracker crust, my powdered sugared funnel cake cocaine.
                        E                                D
Let the crescent cookie rise. These carob colored almond eyes
                              E                               A
Would rest to see my cashewed princess in the swirling marble sky.
                   E                                    D
Will rest upon the knee, where all the visions cease to be
                           E                            A
A root beer float in our banana boat across the tapioca sea.
                             E                         D
When letting all attachments go, is the only prayer we know,
                        E                 A
May it be so, may it be so, may it be so, oh.