I love eating babies with cheese.
Fileting their fat little bellies.
Deboning their knobbly knees.
At breakfast I just have a nibble.
At lunch I could eat one or two.
And if I’ve not eaten a thing all day long,
At dinner, I scarf quite a few.
I know that it vexes my neighbors.
My husband’s quite out of his mind.
But my predilection for babies
Isn’t random, unthinking or blind.
I limit my baby consumption
To children that nobody likes.
The kind of kids other folks growl at
And dream of impaling on spikes.
Those children are often quite nasty,
Their parents have let them be spoiled.
Which means they’re delightful as roasters;
They don’t need to be fried or boiled.
I never eat sweet, pleasant babies.
I only eat bad, rotten kids.
And decades from now when you notice the change,
You’ll be awfully glad that I did.