On the same lines as Brian. Sick minds think alike.
The Breakfast Inquisition’s said
To have great expertise
Is making bits of heated bread
Recant their heresies.
A crunchy slice of Mother’s Pride
Will crumble like it’s dust
If told a knife’s to be applied
Beneath its tender crust.
Confession from a sourdough
That’s scorched a tawny brown
Will come when its tormentors go
To fetch the crumbscrews down.
But should these fearsome methods fail
To make their victims crack,
All instruments of torture pale
Before the dread toast rack!
Last edited by Rob Stuart; 05-31-2013 at 11:50 AM.
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