To the Cockroach they all yield—
He’s now lord o’er wood and field.
He struts about among them,
Rubbing his big tummy,
Looks at their young ones
And thinks: “How very yummy!”
Gazes at the little ones with greed,
Orders supper to be brought him with speed!
“I want no beans or corn,
But flesh of baby unicorn;
Other youngsters as well—
Those with a savory smell.”
The poor, poor parents
Are in distress.
Their dear babes
They hug and caress:
For what mother could give up her child,
Her baby tame or her baby wild?!
So that the monster could devour
Her precious crumb, her little flower!