I have buttons and sleeves, I hang on a hook. You wear me on top, But I’m not a book.

Start with culture and add yeast, till optimal bacteria's reached. Mix in fruit and granola too, maybe even honey, oohh.

You rub me on your hands to wash off the dirt, but get me in your eyes and they’ll start to hurt.

I wear my crown of leaves up high, Beneath a coat of scarlet dye. Though I’m a berry, strange to see, My speckled seeds are grown on me!

Roses are pretty to look at. But if you touch them, Things could go south, Because of these little daggers.