what a lyricist

A, who is supposed to be sleeping, is singing rather tunefully, “Water, salt, and then then then then then- oil, molasses, then then then then- flour, yeast, and - then then then then then….“ She’s assisted Dan in breadmaking just about enough to take over the job.

Yesterday she was singing "Summer, fall, winter, spring" over and over again to the tune of Dona nobis pacem.