Cannibal Eating Rites (Or Wrongs) Poem by Stanley Cooper

When a cannibal man is thinking of choosing his just dessert
Must his family, friends and neighbors go on a red alert?

If his main dish consisted, of people fricassee
Might he nibble on lady fingers to go with his skull of tea?

Does the populace of Paris diminish
When he eats his golden French fries
Or when he dines on his delicious dish
Known as Parisian delectable thighs?

He loves to eat a Frank-foot-er
For him, it’s a hot dog delight
But to Frank, there’s nothing much cruder
Then feeling that cannibal’s bite

He doesn’t smoke marijuana
But loves smoking men in his pot
He’s far worse than most Piranhas
Loves munching on humans a lot

A cannibal thinks it is thrilling
To be known as a people gourmet
And he’s always so ready and willing
To dine at a human buffet

When it comes to dining organic
He’s certainly not part of that scene
Man-eaters are known to be manic
For picking bones clean, they are keen

Though he is not big on veggies and herbs
He might savor the curls on your head
So hope that his diet and hunger he curbs
At least till he knows you’re quite dead