This recipe is an old one
Taught to me in my mother's tongue
A slippery night of whispering
She never wrote it down
	easy to see why

Grinding his bones to make the bread
They say alternative flours are in
Almond or oat or coconut or quinoa
All will do the trick
	but not for this

You can add quite a bit to it
Berries or seeds or slights
Garlic or olives or aggression
Choose the right flavor 
	it's important

It all goes in the bowl
Yeast and salt and rage
Sugar and milk and desire
Mix and knead then wait
	for it to prove itself

Make it the shape you need
A loaf or small balls
So everyone can get a taste
But I prefer a single large ring
	to hang around their neck 

After that it just needs heat
Whatever you can manage
Electrical coils glowing red
Sulfuric blue flames 
	white hot righteousness

Afterwards there are some that remain
Among the crumbs and wreckage
Someone always asks why
Why did I decide to bake this 
	they know what they did

Most will let it cool a bit
Then rip off chunks slathered in honey
Or serve it toasted with cheese
But the old ways are the best
	just serve it cold

Maybe with a little butter.