I've had a crocodile for tea
or rather he had me.
His disregard for cucumber
was plain for all to see,
so I tempted him with butter beans
spread out across my knee.

He overlooked the légumes and
went straight for the patella.
He's not too keen on pulses and
afraid of salmonella
so I let him go on munching
'cos he's such a jolly fella.

I felt a squiggy swizzling
in the region of my toes,
so I looked into my socks and
found he'd nibbled off my nose.
Shall I invite him back again?
Let's just see how it goes.

I would take him out to dinner
at pertwunkling pounds per head,
but because he's just a crocodile
he'd take that as it's said
and chomp away quite happily
until my guests were dead.

I'm entertaining twenty
at a quarter past the moon,
so if I feel hospitable
I'll telephone him soon,
but this time I'm insisting
he must always use his spoon.