Bramble Bear's Big Breakfast

The alarm rang. Bramble Bear climbed out of bed.
It was snowing -- his pink tummy grumbled.
"Day three of my diet," he gloomily said.
"But maybe a speck of pink crumble!"

He leapt from his burrow to check out his hut.
The box that said "Diet" was grey.
"What's this? Just a bag of raw chillberry nuts?"
Good in August, perhaps. Not for today."

Growling he grabbed it and tossed it aside;
he pounced on the sturdy old fridge.
"Don't worry, my tum-tum! It's time for a ride!
It's time for some succulent gridge!"

Snatching bramble-bread up, he browned it just right,
he flung some green fudge on his thistles.
"Jam, jelly and ribs! What a marvelous sight!"
On the grill, bacon splendoured and gristled.

He poured fizzle-bean milk in his munchickle bowl
and spiced it all up with black trumble.
He frizzled two burr-frogs and guzzled them whole --
Brambled-belly applauded and rumbled!

Then, as the steam rose from cuttlefish stew,
he gobbled down two mugs of treacle.                           
He filled a great pie with snudder-grudge goo
and spruced up its crust with blue beetles.     

And once he had downed all that glorious grub
he bathed in hot mud with a beam.
Then he reached his paw out to the dandycove shrub,
for a handful of acorns with cream.