If I ever saw a Minotaur,
I know I'd cut him dead
He eats young girls for breakfast...
Oh, he's terribly ill bred
It isn't that he eats them...
(They're his diet, so he must)
But he doesn't use a napkin,
And he don't cut off the crust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem