Saturn Devouring One of His Children 1819-1823 by Francisco Goya

My children will overthrow me,

This is some bologna,

What can I do,

Except make them food.

That would be harsh and cruel,

But I make the rules,

They must die,

I'll eat them like I eat pie,

I'll start with their heads,

While they're in their beds,

Next I'll eat the arm,

That will be an alarm,

I wonder how they'll taste,

hopefully not like waste,

I have to get rid of them,

So I guess I'll have to eat them.