Ode to an Oat Flake

The following poem is adapted from Robert Burn’s Ode to a Haggis.


God bless, your honeyed, sweetened flakes,

Great king of the breakfast race,

Broon is your form at your face,

Oats, Wheat, Rice and Sugar,

Forever have a place,

As food before dinner,


The whitend bowl that you fill,

Your flakes above milk like a great hill,

Heralding from the distant mill,

When I go to feed,

My stomach won’t sit still,

As my appetite feels the greed,


The spoon, silver and narrow,

Inserts itself inside the barrow,

Of golden goodness, sweet as marrow,

Lift you up and up,

From the bowl, like an arrow,

Crisp and crunchy, that’s good, yup!



I am sorry I made you read this.

Alex Joshi, 10D.







2 thoughts on “Ode to an Oat Flake”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s