I think that serendipity
rewards no one resembling me.
The wench, whose overweening chest
gives umbrage everywhere it’s pressed,
advances to unjust desserts
adroitly flouncing in her skirts.
Me, the Huguenot, and Thou make three
and in our apprehension grave
that hopes we’ll not be made her slave.
The giantess, for such is she,
grunts, approaching, ‘Fum-fo-fi-fee’
the distaff version of the hum
her husband grumbles: ‘Fee-fi-fo-fum’.
Thou and me make haste to squat
behind the hapless Huguenot.
The giantess gives his head a squeeze
that sends his brainpan to his knees
which swell like they’ve contracted mumps.
I am less scared of Heffalumps.
Thou and me hide by a well.
We gather this may not end well.
We kick our wellies off and dive
in the dark and hope we’ll stay alive.