Goblins all go
With hunger in tow
To sack and steal
And make a meal
Of long lost little toes.

And while I like their gobbling,
I find their cheffing wobbly,
They’ll eat a sock,
A toe-like rock
Will set those gobbles slobbering.

I’m all about
Fine food in snout,
But their taste
Long fled in haste –
I’m more of a goblout.