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 chew

The 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 for such fare,

I think it exceedingly rude

To do such a thing, when I'm quite well aware

Little 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 meals

In innocent slumber - like this.