Escape From The Salad Bowl

When the little salad onion saw the knife of stainless steel, she forgot her crippling bunion which would have to wait to heal later when the danger's gone. So the little onion fled from the table down and on to the dachshund's fluffy bed. Down the stairs, onto the street, stranded in the dirty gutter, staring into sure defeat together with the utter clutter. Came a gust of winter weather, brought more stuff into the curb. One of them, a great big feather. Thought the onion, 'Ill disturb this dilemma for my sake.' At that moment the street sweeper came, and -with her life at stake- quickly prayed to God, her keeper where her prayer then was heard. Southern winds can be uplifting, go and ask a passing bird, one of those, now coming, shifting some heavy things around the town. Picked up both stowaway and feather, the onion mumbled 'Up, not down', it was a godsent, this foul weather. And that is how, from any salad an onion can escape my friend. If you enjoyed this truthful ballad you've read to here, which is the end.