Upon a bridge I met a troll,
his features weary, his countenance droll.
His figure squashed into an ill fitting suit,
his sharp claws poking from the front his boots.
‘Do you mean me to eat me?’ I inquired,
for I’d never seen a troll thus attired.
‘Yes sir,’ he said, ‘that is my intention,
but first you must give these forms your attention.’
And with that he drew out a stack of paper,
a set of pens, a folder and even a stapler.
‘This one confirms that you won’t make me ill,
this one’s liability, and this one’s the bill.’
‘Now look here, said I, ‘this is most unforeseen.
What happened to a growl followed by a scream?’
The troll just shrugged and shook his head,
‘I’m afraid that side of things is now dead.’
‘To be here and eat you, I must have a permit,
I’ve got all the paperwork to confirm it.
I must keep records of everyone I eat,
And deliver flowers to the relatives to keep things neat.’
I sighed and drew forth my mighty axe,
‘Well I don’t intend to deal with any of that stack.
Nor do I intend to be killed and eaten,
on your guard troll, prepare to be beaten!’
But the troll’s intention did not waver,
he simply pulled out another sheet of paper.
‘Then you’ll need to fill in this “Intent to slay”.
But take your time sir, I’ve got all day.’