Oh help! my husband’s disappeared.
He made a choice misguided.
He rose and stretched and scratched his beard
And thoughtfully decided:

“I think,” he said, “I’ll have some fruit –
The grapes look nice and red, dear.”
“Be careful,” said I with a hoot,
“They don’t ‘have’ you instead, dear.”

“They can’t,” said he, “they wouldn’t dare
For grapes are vegetarian.”
“You never know,” I said, “take care,
You bold sexagenarian.”

Oh horrible! that I foresaw
the crisis of the drama.
He vanished down the gaping maw
Of a cannibal banana.