The Boy With The Golden Sombrero

Bowl of gold keeps it still, but he tastes a bit of foil. Throw it out or leave it set. It's soggy now, he sogged it. You sift out the sweet parts and leave out the best part. You miss out every morning (it hurts you). He was sold, in his haste, a better bowl (a better waste). For the time, he was set. A better bowl, a challenge met. I can't complain (don't try to refrain).