A giant at the door behind,
For Baby? Nothing of the kind!
But even if a Giant were to come,
With an eye like an Orleans plum,
And hands like wolf’s paws,
And teeth like horrible saws,
And a voice like a dreadful cough,
And he carried baby off,
And fed her up in a dungeon
(To fatten her for his luncheon),
A dungeon as high as the stars;
And, if the dungeon had bars,
And was guarded by a horrid vulture,
And an eagle of savage culture;
And if from the wall of the castle
A dragon hung like a tassel,
And the castle was built among mountains,
In a lonely situation
At the very end of creation,
With flames spouting round it like fountains—
Why, mother could find her way
To the castle any day,
And make the old dragon wriggle,
And fight the vulture and the eagle,
And blow up the castle—pop!
And bring baby home to her sop,
And the sop should have sugar extra,
Because the Giant had vexed her.