I scurried up to the garden today,
Afraid I’d receive a surprise.
Don’t bother to follow me,
You’ll surely seal your demise.
For every skull that ever I’d drawn will gather there for purpose unknown,
Because today’s the day for pancakes and crumbs, it’s Breakfast with the Skulls.
Every skull who’s been in a mood is sure to find I’ve not understood today.
They’ll sit and brood and eat lots of food: syrup and corn and gin alá mode ‘ole.
I’d better join them under the eaves where they sneak and peek ‘til I buckle my knees.
It really is Breakfast with the Skulls.
Breakfast time with the Skulls
The airy scary Skulls are plotting a diabolical deed today.
Scream it, shout it, show your hand and know they breakfast on a yoga mat.
Watch them madly roll around.
They love to flip and dance,
Don’t you wish they’d slip away?
At nine a.m. they’re stylish and ghostly
While goo crawls away into a pile of stew.
They’re wired up and letting you know it. Skulls.
~ To be sung to the tune of “The Teddy Bear’s Picnic”