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These are the fairytale monsters of my youth-- I can still remember the Fee-Fi-Fo-Fumming, blood-of-an-Englishman-smelling, Ogre that lived atop the heavens-high beanstalk. He was a proper monster, threatening to eat the bones and all of that thieving brat, Jack.
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Ogres may be misunderstood-- the modern antihero-- but, were I to come across one-- even those of the green-skinned variety, I think I'd still give him or her a very wide berth.
Bless You Child And Count Your Bones
If you stumble cross the ol' Ogre's path,
be sure to count your toes,
the ol' Ogre's got a taste for young flesh,
you really don't need ten of those.
There's treasure found in the ol' Ogre's home,
though you'll pay a heavy price,
if you sneak just a pence, or a stale crust of bread,
the toll may be your young life.
---e.a.s. demers
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