Hansel & Gretel

Cass had an assignment to write a poem in the style of a famous poet. Frost? Yeats? Wordsworth? Sandburg? Angelou? No, she chose Roald Dahl a la Revolting Rhymes and wrote the following, to which she owns all the copy rights. All I did was buy her books to feed this fierce imagination of hers.

Hansel and Gretel walked along
In perfect step, singing a song,
Looking for a nice old crone
Who'd let the kiddies eat her home.
"I think," said the smallish German child,
"We'll have to find one who's less wild.
The last one was completely wack
While restraining her I threw my back."
"Yes," sweet young Gretel agreed,
"I know just the place to do this deed."
So they wandered far away from home
Into the forest, all alone.
When they arrived, dear Hansel spied
The old crone's house and nearly died.
The house was made of gingerbread,
Fat Hansel almost fell down dead.
Gretel grabbed his arm and with all her wattage
Launched herself upon the cottage.
They ate and ate and ate some more,
Until they lay there, on the floor
Completely incapacitated,
It seemed, my dears, that this was fated.
Soon enough, a witch came out
And promptly turned the kids to sprouts.
A lesson ev'ry child needs to learn:
Avoid all sins, for they will turn
You into something grosser by far
Than the little twit you already are.