Beware the Poet

If you draw your sword so sharp To skewer me on a night so dark Stop and ponder what might befall If my words you chance to spall A bouquet of thorns, for you I’ll sow it Take warning fair, beware the poet I’ll drag your hair out from your crown Set it aflame to render down Flesh from bones and skull and pate Your dome will be my dinner plate If for your body you care or fret Take warning fair, beware the poet I’ll fry your kidney, spleen and lung Then garnish it with nose and tongue Your innards I will with pestle pound And feed them to my trusty hound Who’ll lap them up with zeal I bet Take warning fair, beware the poet I’ll carve your shin bone to a spoon You’re ears will become two spittoons Fine shredded cheeks and coarse sliced eyes Can become lip smacking pies Each digit will make a fine brochette Take warning fair, beware the poet I know ‘twill be a fantastic feast For family and friends, ten at least We’ll toast stupidity with your blood And finish up with sweet, heart pud It’s no false threat that I emote Take warning fair, beware the poet