There once was a Jolly Keen Giant
who was bold and extremely defiant.
He would roam through the globe
in a Krugerrand robe
and expect that the world be compliant.
He was strong and obnoxious, well fed.
Took a stuffed gray opossum to bed.
But there was a small spot
just the size of a dot
and if bothered would kill him quite dead.
Like Young Siegfried, he had been prepared
at the time when he bravely had snared
the big dragon from Hell
and he drained the blood well
brushed it onto the skin he had bared.
Well the Giant was pretty conceited
and he thought he could NOT be defeated.
But one wintery night
he had felt a small bite
and his life had been shamelessly cheated.
The opossum had come back to life
used his teeth like a big Bowie knife.
Cut through gristle and bone
to the most vital zone
now the Giant was truly in strife.
Within minutes he got septicemia
which resulted in shocking anemia.
So unless it's an elf
you'd best sleep by yourself.
He passed over from hypokalemia.
This is writ for the fourth of July.
Do not argue and don't ask me why.
Any giant, asleep
while his underlings weep
is a candidate, surely to die.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/july-fourth-2007/
