There’s a disgruntled growl of anguish
of genuine angst and of grief
My gingerbread man seems quite gutted
he’s grinding his gums and his teeth

He’s garbling his words as he grumbles
He’s losing the gift of the gab
Adrift in existential gridlock
Where there are no straws for him to grab

He’s getting giddy with gold-graded glumness
Grappling with guilt, getting gruff
His moaning and groaning is grisly
And I think that I’ve heard quite enough

For this gruesome display of grim griping
is rather ghastly to hear
From a once gallant genial fellow  
Who I’d bought to bring me some cheer

So my plan is simply to grab him
in a gesture of generous guile
and I’ll gobble him up - yes I’ll eat him;
that’ll make at least one of us smile