by Nick Gisburne
I love the taste of humans with my tea
The smaller, fresher specimens are best
A stew with toddler dumplings, two or three
The softness makes them easy to digest
If I could choose a fine and fragrant dish
A fricassee of children springs to mind
Such dining is a troll’s undying wish
My larder holds a medley of mankind
As winter fades my appetites have grown
The smell of meaty humans fills the air
The flavour as they sizzle on the stone
Is more than any greedy troll could bear
I think I’ll wander out there for a meal
Hot tea, with teens on toast, that sounds ideal
