 
A-whiffling through the wood. You never know what I’ll do next But you know that it won’t be good. And if you wonder what I like To munch on hungrily, Your skin, your bones, your heretic heart Are just the thing for me. From a mile or two away. I hid awhile ’cause I hate to eat So early in the day. Now as in uffish thought you stand Beneath the tum-tum tree, Your skin, your bones, your heretic heart Are just the thing for me.  Are mimsy and hard to chew. The fruits that fall and roll away Aren’t as easy to catch as you. And if there are but four food groups, In you alone are three: Your skin, your bones, your heretic heart Are just the thing for me. 
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