It was somebody’s fault because they dropped the salt down to the brown soup. It didn’t make a difference to the down feeling when somebody had my brown soup. All the salt melted to nothing, only one person who was belted to the soup could see. The sad soup was on a greasy turn down to fleecy. The giraffe and calf couldn’t see a thing. Everyone says: ” What a sad, sad soup.” Now lift my hopes and make me glee and don’t mope at my soup. Make my sad sad soup great, and please don’t hate, my sad sad soup.