The Widowed Giantess

The boy's name was Jack, that's what they tell me

Say he was quick as a fox and small as a flea.

He came up one day when I was out 

Climbed up here on some overgrown sprout.

When he broke in, around high noon

My husband was singing his favorite tune.

The old giant song that starts with a hum

and goes "fie, fie, foe, fum!"

Well, this little boy wasn't half so nice

when he stumbled upon our paradise.

He wasn't interested in any truce -

instead, he stole our golden goose.

Of course, my husband followed him back down

to have a stern talk with him in his little town

but this boy was no mere impoverished herder - 

there was one thing on his mind, and that was murder.

He took out an axe, and without even a thought

began to half away at that big old stalk

By the time my husband realized its fate

For him, it was already far too late.

So here I am, the widowed wife

deprived of our once happy life.

My advice: if you see a little boy

Squash him until he's completely destroyed.