Made but for one purpose,
Long have I mulched
Upon the mysteries of Dun'can
And his gift to all quivering stacks,
The Holy Doh'knut.

Oft have I spewed sprinkles,
Farted frosting,
Synthed yeasty concoctions
For the Holy Torus,
Apex and sustenance of the humble Traeki.

With the Ring of Coff(ee)'nition
Have I trained to make of
The Torus, Holy Doh'Knut,
A succor and an inspiration
For lowly and labored rings.

No, not the onion ring,
Nor the curly fry,
Nor the flaky cresent (a poor excuse for a ring, that)
Nor even the bagle (yuppified)
Can supplant the Holy Doh'knut.

So Dun'can has Said, "Yuppify not the Doh'Knut."

(Again I must stroke the wax:
There is precedent.)

Yes, in the wax and the
Library too there is precedent.

Consider the bagel.
Once a staple of lowly stacks
(As the Doh'Knut shall remain,
thank Dun'can)
It is now the statement
(fashionable? no)
Of every yuppie gourmand.
Everywhere the bagel rolls,
less itself it becomes.
Baked not boiled, many bagels now are
(and this lowly stack, servant of Dun'can,
shudders at the thought),
And filled with goofy things:
Jalapenos and oat-bran to name
but two.

Known by its company, the bagel
Now ornaments the T-shirts of
o'er-pierced youth.  (And this
you want for the Doh'knut?)

Behold also the many
Forms of pastry.

For yuppies they are manifold
and handed down from (imperious)
Stacks of old, as the eclair,
the Napoleon.

But poor honest working stacks
get Twinkies.  Unless the promise
of the Doh'Knut is realized, as
Prophsied by Dun'can,
Twinkies is all we shall receive.

Such a fate warrants not the lowly stacks.

And need I remind, need I make you shudder?
We traeki, yuppified and filled with ambition,
Fearsome (loathsome) *Jophur* may become.
Full of mastery and drive, the Jophur
taste not
The Doh'knut, the Bag'el
The sprinkle, the lox,
The frosting, the cream cheese.

The analogy merits consideration:
Will a yuppy Doh'knut taste as sweet?
Perhaps, but what yuppy will appreciate it?

Ah, even from the Wolflings
comes example.  Though quaint,
Untutored and naive,
Even they know to observe
The Doh'Knut and keep it holy.
Learn from the Wolfling sect
called Epis'copalian.  Neither fervent
nor aggressive in their faith,
Yet weekly they worship and pray, 
And only then may they consume the Doh'Knut.

Not sprinkled nor frosted but glazed
their Doh'Knut is, the humblest form,
which is reserved for reverence.

Frosted and sprinkled the worker's
Doh'Knut may be, but glazed is the 
Doh'Knut of the reverent, upon the
Doh'Knut's Holy Day.

(Aged is this torus, too far down
The wax it strays, alas.)

To conclude this ring must.

To the Shipley's, the Winchell's even
You may go.  To Mrs. Johnsons, who is open
All night, for she is of the faithful,
You may go.

Dun'can is patient and kind,
And knows that the Fran'chise
Sometimes is difficult to find.  Fear
Not to take sustenance along the way.

But yuppify not the Doh'knut.  Inflate
Not the price,
neither gentrify the topping.
Share the Doh'Knut by all means,
But gussie it up do not.

Of the Doh'Knut fear not
To break in two and eat but half.

But do not expect the remains,
Unmulched,
To wait for your return.