On Monday morn, a jogger saw a leg
half covered by a heap of leaves and sticks.
Poor Daniel's brains were spilt like scrambled egg
and by him lay a box of Weetabix.
And next day at the butcher's, lardy Keith
was found slumped on a stack of minty chops.
His slopping guts were mingled with his beef
and by him lay a box of Coco Pops.
No clues to find. The killer isn't sloppy.
Police are baffled. Neighbours tremble. But
down at the Herald, Jo submits her copy
and tucks into a bowl of Crunchy Nut.
With just a cleaver and a dreadful joke
at last she's got her scoop in Buckley Oak.