[Verse]
My age is three hundred and seventy-two
I think with the deepest regret
How I used to pick up and voraciously chew
The dear little boys that I met

I’ve eaten them raw in their holiday suits
Eaten them curried with rice
I’ve eaten them baked in their jackets and boots
And found them exceedingly nice

But now that my jaws are too weak for such fare
I think it's exceedingly rude
To do such a thing, when I’m quite well aware
Little boys do not like being chewed
Little boys do not like being chewed

And so I contentedly live upon eels
And try to do nothing amiss
I pass all the time I can spare from my meals
In innocent slumber like this
Innocent slumber like this

More eels, m'lady?
Perhaps some bubble and squeak?
Or a little toad in the hole?
A Lancashire hot pot, perhaps?
That would be nice
And so I contentedly live upon eels
Try to do nothing amiss
I pass all the time I can spare from my meals
In innocent slumber like this
Innocent slumber like this