The Giant

There is a Giant in the world Whose head is up so high, He has to get down on his knees To look up in the sky.

And when he feels the need of food, He wades out in the sea And fishes out a whale or two Just right to fricassee.

Or if he’s near to Hindustan He gathers up a few Young elephants with jungle brush For oriental stew.

And when he tires of earthly food His diet, as a rule, Consists of planets roasted well And hung outside to cool.

He sends his wife to gather them; She brings them on a tray; For cream to make the planet sauce She skims the Milky Way.

When Mrs. Giant cooks, the steam Floats off across the sky In clouds that drop the rain that keeps The world from getting dry.

And sometimes when the clouds are dark, The Giant gets his gun And shoots it in their very midst-- Because he likes the fun.

But when the sky is clear all day, Without a cloud in sight, The Giant finds his supper cold When he gets home at night.

Whenever Mrs. Giant goes To tidy up the room, She picks a comet ’cause its tail Is handy for a broom.

The Giant drinks, to quench his thirst, A whirling water-spout; He gave up drinking mountain lakes Lest he should have the gout.

He puts a forest in his pipe When he’s inclined to smoke, And lights his match upon the moon; The moon can’t see the joke!

I think, my child, were you a moon, ’Way off in stellar space, You’d feel put out if anyone Scratched matches on your face!

The Giant dresses up sometimes And goes to take a stroll; And picks a little bunch of stars To deck his buttonhole.

He’s mighty careful which he takes; He knows the ones to shun; He burned his fingers badly once By fooling with the Sun.

And once in absent minded mood He picked a nettle star;-- He ran a-yelling all the way From Rome to Zanzibar!

The islands are his stepping-stones, The continents his bed; He slept on Greenland once and caught A snuffle in his head.

He slides around the Arctic Pole; And if he gets a chill He goes and sits a month or two In India or Brazil.

He caught his trousers on Cape Horn And tore an awful slit; He stayed in bed a season while His wife embroidered it; She fixed it with a patch of sky; It didn’t show a bit!

When walking through a mountain land, He sometimes stubs his toe; The shock is called an earthquake by The frightened folks below.

Our weather only comes about Up to the Giant’s knees; The rest of him sticks up above As pleasant as you please.

So, when he wants to dust his shoes, He only has to stand A minute in the middle of Some handy, windy land.

He saw the men who went to dig The Panama Canal. He slapped his knees and laughed until He grew hysterical.

He could have finished that Canal With half a dozen kicks; But he had promised not to get Mixed up in politics!

One night a great astronomer, While gazing into space, By chance looked through his telescope Right in the Giant’s face.

He thought it was the moon until The Giant winked his eye;-- The wise man never dared again To search the starry sky.

We never see the Giant, for On seeing us he flies, Because he feels so ill at ease And conscious of his size.