Hostess with the Mostess

Behold, a mighty falling: in its wake,
The symbol of my sugar-driven youth,
The perishable Twinkie, or, in truth,
The hostess with the mostess, and her cake,
Are all in liquidation. What a shame;
I used to eat 'em daily, or within
An hour would another stroll begin
To automatic vendors, putting blame
Upon the cake itself. And there's a chance
A buyer may be betting he would gain
A profit in upsetting here the pain
The fall of Twinkie brings, for the romance
Will guarantee that we will buy some more.
Secure the rights; keep open here a store.