She had a bun in the oven
It was a hot, cross bun
A bun that was damn hot and angry
Just puffing and steaming to be someone

It was the fifties, there was war in the streets
With Mussolini and his gansters
Raiding Greek houses for blood and for meat

The day a mother went to claim
What was rightfully hers
The same baker could've saved a mother and child
From simple hunger

There was tradition in the village
That when a woman is with baby
She is entitled to a free loaf of bread
But the baker must see her baby bump on display

But when the woman went to a baker
He looked her in the stomach and said
"You do not look very pregnant to me
You are so thin, your stomach's flat
Lady, your baby is probably dead!
Will not be wasting my bread on liars", he said

Woman lowered her head, faced like thunder
Baker could've saved a mother and child
From simple hunger, oh oh oh