The Whiskerbee

As he is marching,
As he is marching,
His flesh breaks up,
His face turns blue,
Strong enough,
To blast you,
To timbuktu.

A dog walks by,
No flesh to see,
But what a strange liberty,
As he is crunching,
As he is crunching,
His leg falls down,
It snaps off quick,
As he does his little trick.

BANG! CRUNCH!
The winds whistle by,
And stand up high,
As he gets closer,
As he gets closer,
The dead jump up,
The deceased fly by,
Everyone ready to die.

TWITCH! THUMP!
Thick as a lump,
He trudges down the road,
As he sits down,
And stares moodily,
A flower dies,
As the giant sighs,
Because you see,
He wasn't bad,
He just got mad,
Quite eas-ily,
No friends he had,
As no one would be friends,
With the giant whiskerbee!