No animal is half so vile as Crocky-Wock the crocodile.
On Saturdays he likes to crunch six juicy children for his lunch,
And he especially enjoys just three of each,
Three girls,
Three boys.
He smears the boys (to make them hot) with mustard from the mustard pot.
But mustard doesn't go with girls,
It tastes all wrong with plaits and curls.
With them, what goes extremely well is butterscotch and caramel.
It's such a super marvellous treat when boys are hot,
And girls are sweet.
At least that's crocky's point of view.
He ought to know.
He's had a few.
That's all for now.
It's time for bed, lie down and your sleepy head.
Sssh!
Listen!
What is that I hear Galumphing softly up the stair?
Go lock the door and fetch my gun!
Go on, child, hurry!
Quickly, run!
No, Stop!
Stand back!
He's coming in!
Oh, look,
That greasy greenish skin!
The shining teeth,
The greedy smile!
IT'S CROCKY-WOCK, THE CROCODILE!