Cereal Murder

Good morning bowl, good morning spoon,
good morning milk, I sing your tune.

Upon the box of oaties sweet,
law in black words quite small, but neat.

From snakes of York law words with charm
protecting them if they do harm.

So now, I'll eat my breakfast, dear,
as I feel sure the poison's near.

Protect me, someone, from all that's bad
in my red bowl: this food I had.

Barry G. Wick