And feeling in the trees: he was as tall
As the big apple tree, and twice as fat:
His beard was long, and bristly-black, and there
Were leaves and bits of grass stuck in his hair.
He held a great big club in his right hand,
And with the other felt in every tree
For something that he wanted. You could stand
Beside him and not reach up to his knee
So mighty big he was—I feared he would
Turn round, and trample down to where I stood.
I tried to get away, but, as I slid
Under a bush, he saw me, and he bent
Far down and said, ‘Where is the Princess hid?’
I pointed to a place, and off he went—
But while he searched I turned and simply flew
Round by the lilac bushes back to you.