It was a stormy night, the rain kept falling.
Limey was sleepy but the birds were calling:
"Limey, Limey!" they whistled together,
"Visit the river, if not now then never!"
He worked his way down, he went through the trees,
He jumped over bushes, he fell to his knees.
In front of the river, a glowing delight:
A small little fairy, a wonderful sight.
"So you found me," it said, it hovered and dipped,
"But you look so tired, and your clothes are ripped."
Limey then smiled, he felt his heart pound.
His head slumped down and he slipped to the ground.
In a restless slumber, he felt himself grow,
When twenty feet tall he started to slow,
"Are you happy now?" a voice shouted out,
And there was the fairy who gave him a clout.
Limey soon woke, he shook his head twice,
There were his feet, no smaller than mice,
And here was his body, bigger than big,
What was he doing? He took hold of a twig.
But the twig was a tree, his hand was immense,
Where was that fairy? He was suddenly tense.
"What have you done? I feel all queer?"
He said as he sat, and flattened a deer.
"Calm down!" said the fairy, floating lower and lower,
"People will like you, you’re a bit of a grower.
At first you were dull, but now you’re a giant.
I thank you a lot, you were very compliant!"
"I had no choice, I was happy ‘til now,"
He shook off his shoe and knocked over a cow,
"But why am I huge? What have you done,
If you grew me much taller, I’d compete with the sun."
Limey stopped moving for fear of squashing,
Another poor creature, oh think of the washing.
But perhaps it was right, maybe friends will appear,
"I’ll be popular and happy," it was all coming clear.
So up jumped Limey, a giant through and through,
And the fairy disappeared, it had things to do.
It called by the town, "Food on the way!
A nice fleshy giant, it will make your day."
When Limey reached home he called for his friends,
But all that was waiting was a trap with sharp ends.
It snapped on his foot, and closed itself tight,
It bit into his skin, he put up a fight.
He bent down to loosen the mantrap that clung
To his leg, but he stumbled. Bang bang went a gun.
He felt a sharp pain in his chest, so he cried,
But nobody listened, he lay there and died.
His ghost floated up, away to the moon,
The air there was clear, but it all came too soon.
He looked back through tears at the fires down below,
They were having so much fun, how he wished he could go.
Bring out the cleavers, dig out the knives,
Round up the children, chop up some chives.
Fetch all the vegetables, grab all the wine,
Dress up smart - let’s all wine and dine.
Screw in the skewers, light fires on the floor,
Once more, they shouted, there’d be food for the poor,
I’ll take some arm, you take some thigh,
We’ll barbie him proper, raise him up nice and high.
So the people rejoiced, the festivities could start,
From the gift he had given they could all take heart.
And the feast ran all night, "Good old Limey," they sang,
And that was the end of old Limey Lang.
