Effie's head

here is little Effie’s head    cried the third crumb, i am should
whose brains are made of gingerbread    and this is my little sister could
when judgment day comes    with our big brother who is would
God will find six crumbs    don’t punish us for we were good;

stooping by the coffinlid
waiting for something to rise
as the other somethings did-
you imagine his surprise

bellowing through the general noise
Where is Effie who was dead?
-to God in a tiny voice,
i am may the first crumb said

whereupon its fellow five
crumbs chuckled as if they were alive
and number two took up the song
might i’m called and did no wrong

and the last crumb with some shame whispered unto God, my name is must and with the others i’ve been Effie who isn’t alive

just imagine it I say God amid a monstrous din watch your step and follow me stooping by Effie’s little, in

(want a match or can you see?) which the six subjective crumbs twitch like mutilated thumbs; picture His peering biggest whey

coloured face on which a frown puzzles, but I know the way- (nervously Whose eyes approve the blessed while His ears are crammed

with the strenuous music of the innumerable capering damned) -staring wildly up and down the here we are now judgment day

cross the threshold have no dread lift the sheet back in this way here is little Effie’s head whose brains are made of gingerbread