'The Ogre'
A poem by Jack Prelutsky.
In a foul and filthy cavern
where the sun has never shone,
the one-eyed ogre calmly gnaws
a cold and moldy bone.
He sits in silence in the slime
that fills his fetid home
and notes the nearing footsteps
in the monstrous catacomb.
The one-eyed ogre drools with joy,
his stony heart beats fast,
he knows that for some girl or boy
this day shall be their last.
He wields his ugly cudgel
in a wide and vicious arc,
it swiftly finds his victim
in the deep and deadly dark.
Then down and down and down again
the ogre’s blows descend,
to rend, and render senseless,
to speed his victim’s end.
So pity those who stumble through
the one-eyed ogre’s cave –
that dark abode he calls his home
shall surely be their grave.
The Falcon flies