by Nick Gisburne
Excuse me, Mister Monster. Was it you?
The one who ate my family? But why?
It’s naughty putting people in a stew.
I’m here to point, and poke you in the eye.
Of all the other scrummy things to eat,
How rude to roast my yummy mum and dad.
The skeletons you scattered on the street
Have made me very, very, very mad.
Be better, Mister Monster. Learn to cook.
It’s really not so tricky if you try.
My mother doesn’t need it - take her book,
And teach yourself the basics. Bake a pie.
And if you cook another human, whole,
Remember, never, ever lick the bowl.
