(Alkuper. Terry Jacks - Seasons In The Sun) ettäs tiiätte
Goodbye to you, my trusted cook.
We've known each other since we're nine or ten.
Together we baked cookies or pies.
Learned of sugar and ABC's,
skinned our chickens and skinned our hams.
Goodbye my cook, it's hard to bake,
when all the buns are burning in the oven,
Now that the smoke is in the air.
Pretty buns burn everywhere.
When you see them I'll be there.
We had joy, we had fun, we had raisins in the bun.
But the buns that we baked
were just dough out of yeast.
Goodbye, Papa, please bake for me,
I was the plaited bread of the family.
You tried to eat me right from oven.
Too much wine and too much dough,
wonder how I get along.
Goodbye, Papa, it's hard to bake
when all the buns are burning in the oven,
Now that the smoke is in the air.
Little buns burn everywhere.
When you see them I'll be there.
We had joy, we had fun, we had raisins in the bun.
But the wine and the dough,
like the raisins, all have gone.
Goodbye, Michelle, my little bun.
You gave me gas and helped me find the sun.
And every time that I was down
you would always bake around
and get my buns back in the oven.
Goodbye, Michelle, it's hard to bake
when all the buns are burning in the oven,
Now that the smoke is in the air.
With the flour everywhere.
I whish that we could bake buns there.
We had joy, we had fun, we had raisins in the bun.
But the stars we could reach
were just starbuns on the beach