The King Of Hungeroo

The King Of Hungeroo

I squashed a moth to make some broth,

Then meandered to my kitchen.

Our hungry mouths began to froth

As it lay beside me twitching.

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It's served with bags of dragonflies,

(But not their wings or tiny eyes).

They're bland and never taste of much,

Like sawdust from a rabbit's hutch.

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We're also fond of fish's eyes,

But only when they're shallow fried.

When baked or boiled they end up spoiled ,

So i saute the in snake oil.

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Our favourite's deep fried butterflies,

But none today have fluttered by.

So mothy broth we'll settle for,

And sip it through a curly straw.

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Another treat we love to eat

Are millipedes (but not their feet).

They're just as good as fish's eyes

And giant deep fried butterflies.

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So mothy broth and butterflies

And seasoned, sauteed fish's eyes,

And millipedes (but not their feet)

Our perfect culinary treat.

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Our dinners may sound odd to you,

But you don't live in Hungeroo.

'Cus if you did, you'd realise

We eat what crawls and swims and flies.

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So all that flies and swims and crawls

Through forests, fields and waterfalls,

Like tubby grubs and bumbleflies

I cook for homeless passersby.

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For i'm the king of Hungeroo,

And that's my role, that's what i do.

I feed the folk less fortunate

From the sunrise through to sunset.

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And every year on Christmas day,

When all the turkeys fly away,

I cook up crab and fab cuisine,

Like lobster claws and langoustine.

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When bellies bulge from all above,

We sit and chat and share the love,

For all that flies, and swims and crawls,

Through forests, fields and waterfalls.