The Demon Mouth

One day, the Demon Mouth came to the door.

They wouldn't let it in

(would you let it in?)

but the Demon Mouth ate the lock.

The Demon Mouth rumbled into the kitchen

and ate the crisps and carrots and cakes.

It ate the bread, the beans, the beef.

And then it ate the fridge.

They shouted and scowled

until the Demon Mouth ate the words out of their mouths.

They tried to catch it

but the Demon Mouth ate the sprint out of their mouths.

They didn't know what to do.

They didn't know what to do.

And then 

it tried to eat the dog

and they knew they had to do something.

So they called the medicine woman

and asked her to stop the Demon Mouth.

She said this mouth just needs feeding.

Everyone looked at her like the Demon Mouth

had eaten the brains out of her skull.

She said I promise you, this mouth just needs feeding.

No one believed her:

the Demon Mouth had eaten everything it could find

but the medicine woman shook her head

and said

that isn't the same as being FED.

Still no one believed her

but they thought they might as well try.

So they found a biscuit

and gently gave it to the Demon Mouth

who in a demon blur gobbled it down

then gave something like a purr.

So they gave it another biscuit

and a banana

and a bowl of rice and peas

and were just pondering dessert

when the Demon Mouth let out a floor-rattling burp.

They gave it radishes

and raisins

and a bag of onion rings

and the Demon Mouth began to grin.

And when they took out a toffee pudding

the Demon Mouth paused,

then closed

and, just like that,

crept gently off.

And no-one could believe

the Demon Mouth had gone

(just like that)

on being fed

but it did.

And the medicine woman smiled

and walked quietly away,

saying

that mouth just needed feeding

that mouth just needed feeding.