It looked just like a layer cake,
And that’s just what it was.
The finest thing that one could bake,
This layer cake from Oz.
The cake was fluffy and so light,
The cream was fresh and sweet,
The strawberry jam was spread just right,
‘Twas near too good to eat.
But this was not a normal cake,
Of butter, sugar, flour.
It cured each bruise and gash and ache
With therapeutic power.
A Melbourne witch did cook it up,
One day, when ‘twas expedient.
She added sugar by the cup
And one unknown ingredient.
She gave it to her husband, who
Did run a local side.
Just a crumb, she warned, would do
If someone nearly died.
So thanks to that most helpful witch,
The players were never beaten.
When they got hurt upon the pitch,
A crumb of cake was eaten.
No matter how opponents hacked,
Or made a dreadful lunge,
The players jumped up all intact,
Thanks to the magic sponge.