There are those who call me mean

And lacking in panache

But I'm ever hungry, somewhat keen

And always short of cash

 

Scavenging and working hard

That's really not my deal

I thought that I was avant-garde

When choosing out that meal

 

Grandma was a kindly soul

Though I'd say 'rather sickly'

Thus, I ate her up and made her whole

Yet somehow come off 'prickly'

 

Red Riding Hood, it must be said

Lacked any kind of charm

So, I ate her bonnet, feet and head

And really, where's the harm?!

 

My tale was always fairly Grimm

Twisted. Re-told. Gory

Truth is, I ate them on a whim

That's my side of the story