A Giant was, I should premise,
A hulking lout of monstrous size;
He mostly stood—I know you 'll laugh—
About as high as a giraffe.

His waist was some three yards in girth:
When he walked he shook the earth.
His eyes were of the class called "goggle,"
Fitter for the scowl than ogle.

His mouth, decidedly carnivorous,
Like a shark's,—the Saints deliver us!
He yawned like a huge sarcophagus,
For he was an Anthropophagus,

And his tusks were huge and craggy;
His hair, and his brows, and his beard, were shaggy.

I ween on the whole he was aught but a Cupid,
And exceedingly fierce, and remarkably stupid;

His brain partaking strongly of lead,
How well soe'er he was off for head;
Having frequently one or two
Crania more than I or you.

He was bare of arm and leg,
But buskins had, and a philabeg;
Also a body-coat of mail
That shone with steel or brazen scale,
Like to the back of a crocodile's tail;

A crown he wore,
And a mace he bore
That was knobbed and spiked with adamant;
It would smash the skull
Of the mountain bull,
Or scatter the brains of the elephant.

His voice than the tempest was louder and gruffer—
Well; so much for the uncouth "buffer."