Grandma's Special Toast

From Hebden Bridge to the Amalfi coast

People yearned for grandma's toast

That golden slice of scrumptiousness

The heavenly whiff, the unctuousness

They tried to copy her golden taste

With different spread and different paste

But nothing ever seemed the same

When changing tack or shifting blame

They pestered her for ever more

Banging loudly at her door

Grandma please, we're in desperate need

Of toasted goodness, of wholesome seed

So grandma learned to churn out more

She tripled output through her door

Grandma's toast in Halifax

Became available now in vacuum packs

Weddings, wakes and carnivals

Meant catering for quite a host

But now you could Google 'toast by post'

With availability coast to coast

It soon became familiar boast 

To substitute the Sunday roast

With Grandma's special toasted grill

In Heckmondwyke and Notting Hill

And then one day, when least expected

Grandma died and the world dejected

They mourned the thought of Grandma's toast

As church bells summoned the heavenly host

And now on dark and lonely nights

Grandma's ghost delights the most

By munching ectoplasmic toast with cheese

The one we liked the most

She took her secret to the grave

And to this day people rave 

They tell of joy and taste orgasmic

Pleasures ghostly and quite phantasmic