August 14, 2012

Someone Baked The Baby

Each day we learn of another child left to die an excruciating death, alone, forgotten in a hot car by a negligent parent. During the summer of 2004, an increasing number of such stories led one Phoenix radio host to express his growing outrage over this absolutely preventable carnage.

A twist on the Shel Silverstein poem Dreadful as modified by Barry Young.
Someone baked the baby.
It's rather sad to say.
Someone baked the baby
So he won't be out to play.

We'll never hear his whiney cry,
Or have to feel if he is dry.
We'll never hear him asking "Why, why, why?"
Someone baked the baby.

Someone baked the baby.
This is absolutely clear.
Someone baked the baby.
Cause the baby isn't here.

We'll give away his toys and clothes.
We'll never have to wipe his nose.
The authorities just say, "Well, that's the way it goes."
Someone baked the baby.

Someone baked the baby.
What a frightful thing to do!
Someone baked the baby.
The authorities don't have a friggin' clue.

Outside it was over a hundred and ten.
I guess it’s just a case of, "Here we go again."
Or perhaps, one fine day we will see the end,
Of someone baking the baby.
See to your children first. Nothing – no melting quart of ice cream, no missed few minutes of a favorite TV show, nothing – ever takes precedence over the safety of a child.

Dennis P. O'Neil