Billy liked his Cheerios.
He liked to put them in neat rows.
His spaghetti, he would loop,
around his fork with lots of goop.
He’d pitch a grape which then would drop
into his mouth and loudly plop.
With mashed potatoes he would play,
moulding shapes like they were clay.
Yes, food, he thought, was just plain fun,
as he juggled one last bun,
and so for Christmas, this dear boy,
asked for Jello — not a toy!
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