Ummm, this is disturbing:
I found it in an old stack of children's books we had in storage. It's from a book published in 1981 called Tortillitas Para Mama and Other Nursery Rhymes. From the introduction:
These familiar rhymes, which kindle feelings of warmth, security and love, are gathered in this book to both preserve them for the Spanish community and to acquaint others with their charm.
Another poem explains that good tortillas go to papa, while the burnt ones go to mama. Were things really that fucked up in 1981?