Is That Old Lady Gone
The troll was delighted when a wrinkled up crone wandered in.
She had an unassuming air about her, and a giant wart upon her chin.
I can pop her in my oven he thought; I bet her flesh is mighty tasty.
If he had understood Broom Hilda, he would not have been so hasty.
BH was sizing him up. She could practically taste his thighs and hips.
She had taken down trolls bigger than him, some as big as battle ships.
She took out her bag of magic, and pulled out her wand of choice.
It was a beautiful dragon-scaled beauty from her cousin Ugly Joyce.
Troll was making plans to choke her when she gave her wand a swish.
He landed on his petootsie surprising his dog, crow, and fighting fish.
What is happening? They wondered as the old woman gave a jump.
She began to bash and kick him, turning him into a fleshy clay lump.
He was easy to put into the oven, but she had no idea how to turn it on.
He crawled out an hour later and asked his pets, is that old lady gone?
She had wandered into the village that was way down a cobbled hill.
The troll thinks of her often, for he has PTSD and nightmares still.
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