Mummy Slept Late and Daddy Fixed Breakfast
by John Ciardi
Daddy fixed the breakfast.
He made us each a waffle.
It looked like gravel pudding.
It tasted something awful.
“Ha, ha,” he said, “I’ll try again. This time I’ll get it right.” But
what I got was in between Bituminous and anthracite.
“A little too well done? Oh well, I’ll have to start all over.” That
time what landed on my plate Looked like a manhole cover.
I tried to cut it with a fork: The fork gave off a spark.
I tried a knife and twisted it Into a question mark.
I tried it with a hack-saw.
I tried it with a torch.
It didn’t even make a dent.
It didn’t even scorch.
The next time Dad gets breakfast When Mommy’s sleeping late, I think
I’ll skip the waffles.
I’d sooner eat the plate!
