The Sleepy Giant
My age is three hundred and seventy-two,And I think, with the deepest regret,How I used to pick up and voraciously chewThe dear little boys whom I met.I’ve eaten them raw, in their holiday suits;I’ve eaten them curried with rice;I’ve eaten them baked, in their jackets and boots,And found them exceedingly nice.But now that my jaws are too weak forsuch fare,I think it exceedingly rudeTo do such a thing, when I’m quite well awareLittle boys do not like being chewed.
And so I contentedly live upon eels,And try to do nothing amiss,And I pass all the time I can spare from my mealsIn innocent slumber -- like this.