They have fairly lank legs
They’re flexible and prehensile
And there’s six of them, because they’re insectile
And they even have armored tushes.
They’re armored like lobsters. But take note:
They don’t taste like ’em. (That’s my vote.)
Is the humble carrion-crawler
You may not know with what you’re dealing
Until it drops on you from your ceiling.
And tries to leave you paralyzed
It probably won’t be your end.
But if you die in a dungeon, your corpse will feed it, friend.
The very sexy Doppelganger
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What Will Probably Become A Longer Poem About Ettins Later
If you happen to be an Ettin
There’s a lot of Drow lovin’ you could be gettin’.
Eight legs? I prefer two heads
Which don’t use webbing for their beds.
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In Which I Am Needlessly Cruel To Gnolls
If you were to take a poll,
Nobody wants to date a Gnoll
There’s nothing which extends even a patina
Over something that lies like a Human,
and laughs like a Hyena.
_____
Yet Another Little Piece About Gorgons
Trying to battle beasts Gorgonic
Is generally quite moronic.
Although, at least the mortuary
Will gain some lovely statuary.
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Puddings: The Horror
If there’s one thing no Americans lack
It’s pudding–either Blood, or Black
One’s unspeakable, disgusting, oozing
The other, for some reason, people eat out of choosing.
Black puddings are monsters, that’s no lie.
But at least you’re not obligated to eat them after they die.
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Invisible Stalkers
When it comes to fights, I’m not usually a balker
But I do hate fighting the invisible stalker.
It ambushes you and destroys your timing
It’s really bad for completing your rhym–
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