This is a fable of blood and deceit—
Not for the faint-hearted, or stomachs that are weak.
The tale, its author, the unpopular Father Gander,
Was written from his viewpoint with unflinching candor.
This is the real story of an ogre, once sweet,
A sworn vegetarian—tricked—into eating raw meat.

There once was a young man, known to most as Young Jack,
He liked it that way, for it cut him much slack—
Who could believe, that someone so young,
Would make fat Mrs. Sprat the brunt of a pun?

Could Jack be the cause of Jill’s spill down the hill?
Indeed, Wee Willie Winkie watched on from the mill.
And afterwards, poor Humpty—yes, Willy saw it all:
The push down the hill, the shove off the wall.

Now, Little Ms. Muffet had her issues with Jack,

As did an Old Woman,

Bo-Peep,

And a cat,

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Except Ms. M’s love had been spurned by Jack thrice.
So she swore to destroy him, no matter the price.
“And that spider’s mine too,” she vehemently declared.
“I’ll tear off his legs. I refuse to be scared.”

Her patience paid off whilst on her tuffet one day,
A plan for revenge crystalized in a most auspicious way.

It just so happened, that a giant, Sy Klep

Had more than an eye for sweet little Muffet.

Shivering, shaking, M feigned her distress –
As Sy happened by, a huge lie she professed,
Knowing full well, he’d take off after Jack,
To save Muffet’s honor—yes, Sy did things like that.

With a kiss on his lips and a promise of more,
Sy left the house with a slam of the door.
“FEE-FI-FO-FUM
“I will not give up till I find that bum.”
Enraged, Sy ran off, his nose in the air,
But he couldn’t smell Jack,
Not his hide, nor his hair.

That’s when he saw them, Baa and Baa, the black sheep.

“We still have our wool,” the one woefully bleat.
“It’s the white ones who’ve lost it
“Jack cropped, sheered, and tossed it,
“Before chasing them up that steep hill—”

Although Jack was nimble and known to be quick,
He could not outrun Sy and his walking stick, ‘Flick’.

Magic Walking Stick

Sy stopped, checked the wind, aimed Flick at Jack’s back,
Then flung it, and bingo! Flick laid the boy flat.
With a FEE and a FI, a FO and a FUM
Sy, the giant, turned into Attila the Hun.
Ripping, shredding, pulling Jack apart,
Sy gnawed Jack’s bones white, before eating his heart.

The Moral Of The Story?
Never cross anyone that eats curds and whey.

It’s weird what a walk with my dogs and a trail of fur will inspire.
That, and a fondness for nursery rhymes and Fractured Fairy Tales, remember those?
What were your favorites as a child?