The stalker was out there, a slaughter was in the air,
Many of the vegetables were in flux running here or there.
The corn had been found on the plate its ears split down the middle,
The cat sat in the corner with a grin on his face playing the fiddle.
The Brussel Sprouts were in the can and fermenting in their juices,
Hi diddle diddle and the the spinach drowning in the deuces.
The hearts of palms missed the beats and finally succumbed,
The head of lettuce was found brainless its body numb.
No veggie was sparred, and the remains were on the ground,
The murder of the greens, the silence of the hounds.
Who did such a thing, who was to blame,
A person of interest, a person insane.