Cafino Hail was a mold collector,
Yes, that’s right, a bold prospector
Of furry, fungal green.
He started at the age of eight
When he saw something on his plate
That he’d never seen.
It grew somewhere it shouldn’t be,
He knew somehow this made it free
And so he crowned it queen.
Caf learned to farm it off of bread,
But preferred to hunt his mold instead
For that sweetly wild sheen.
He stuffed his room, he filled his house,
His parents had to move on out
By the time he was thirteen.
He kept it in his ears, up his nose,
Between his teeth, ‘twixt his toes,
And even in his spleen.
But then he stuck some in his soul,
And I suppose that you may know
He turned a furry, fungal green.
Caf is happier than most,
And if you see him on your toast,
Be sure to leave your whole plate clean.