Festival Baclava Hat

Maharaja Miku the Bear strode in, proud as a festival king

Wearing a hat of baclava 

the finest pastry his milliner could bring.

He’d meant balaclava, of course, but the spelling went astray,

And syrup dripped regally as he swaggered on his way.

His sweat warmed the honeyed crust till flakes began to fly,

Summoning bees in battalions from every corner of the sky.

They swarmed his bass solo mid‑riff, turning his groove low

into panic and shout,

Sending the whole great yurt’s audience stampeding wildly out.

But Miku wasn’t flaky , no, this bear was fathoms deep,

He just left a trail of pastry flakes wherever his fancy chose to sweep.


8 days till Devauden Festival 2026

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