You seem to have it in for me
and by my life, from you I flee.
Now I know I give you fits
because I chew your books to bits.
And eat them do I ever, man
the cloth and paper, leather tan.
It’s food to me, these tomes you love
that in my hungry mouth I shove.
How is it you can sit and look
for hours at a tasty book?
It’s three A.M. and still you read
please hurry, I’ve got kids to feed.