And, hugging her to my breast,
I heard a loud yelling that pierced me through,
'Twas His Terrible Eminence, Grizzly-Gru,
Of the Monarchy of Unrest.

He had on a blood-red turban,
A picturesque lot of clothes,
With big moustaches both fierce and black,
And a ghastly saber to cut and hack,
And shoes that turned up at the toes.

Out of the gate of the garden
The cherub and I took flight,
And closely behind us the saber flew,
And back of the saber came Grizzly-Gru,
And he chased us all day till night.

I ran down the lunar crescent,
'And out on the silver horn;
I kissed the baby and held her tight,
And jumped down into the starry night,
And--I lit on the earth at morn.

He fitfully threw his saber,
It missed and went round the sun;
He followed no further, he was not rash,
But the baby held on to my coarse moustache,
And seemed to enjoy the fun.

In saving that blue-eyed baby