Ms.Hersham

A joke was made,
On this fateful day.
The joke was less than, appropriate,
And the children couldn't stop laughing at it.
Mr.Fred Clyde grinned to himself,
A funnier joke, he could not tell.

Ms.Hersham, however, was not too pleased,
She already thought of children, fleas.
Her nose was sharp, her eyes sunk in.
And everyone knew what she ate for din.
Garlic and onions and , what else was there?
A child's head, salt in their hair.

She was cruel, oh she was mean.
Of the most evil, she was Queen.
She pushed the children inside,
But held back Mr.Fred Clyde.
He gulped and he shook,
And hoped that she wouldn't take him home to cook.

Ms.Hersham's eyes grew red,
She knelt down to little Fred.
The cold wind blew,
And Fred then knew,
His fate had been sealed,
As Ms.Hersham said while she kneeled,

"Mr.Clyde, I must say,
That joke you told, earlier today,
Was distasteful, dirty, defiled, despicable,detestable, depraved, disrespectful, degrading, dishonorable, and most of all, deliciously amusing."
Her evil grin turned to a smile,
As she patted the head of the child.

"So, you're not gonna eat my head?"
Said dear little Fred.
She rolled her head back and laughed.
"Now, who said anything about that?"
"Well, That's what they say you do.
You take them home, and then they're through!"

Her smile lowered to her chin,
She looked oh so grave and grim.
"Dear child, there's no meat on the head.
I keep that in a closet near my bed.
I would eat the arm, the leg, the gut.
But by no means do I eat the head or the butt."

No one heard from poor little Fred after that.
All they found was a shoe, and a hat.
His body stayed quiet.
And in her house, they could not find it.
And although they could not pin her,
Everyone knows what Ms.Hersham eats for dinner.