The bun rolled along the road and met a hare.
"Little bun, little bun, I shall eat you up!" said the hare. "Don't eat me, slant-eyed hare! I will sing you a song," said the bun, and sang:
I was scraped from the cupboard,
Swept from the bin,
Kneaded with sour cream,
Fried in butter,
And cooled on the sill.
I got away from Grandpa,
I got away from Grandma
And I'll get away from you, hare!
And the bun rolled away before the hare even saw it move!