Holy Spaghetti Monster

I first glimpsed this beast on a cold moonlit beach;
Four foot tall, with teeth five feet long.
He plodded along on the shimmering sands
Left two grooves, one foot deep, looked quite wrong.

A mythical, ethereal, comical fiend
Designed to strike fear into hearts.
They say that he ate the seagulls he found
Smelled so strong, mostly bad, good in parts.

For you see, this poor brute, this consumer of birds
Wasn’t covered in blood or in fleas.
This ‘mighty goliath’ was clad head to foot
In spaghetti, tomato and cheese.

The being just trudged, unloved and alone
The grooves all filled up with sauce.
I pitied the beast, alone in the world
For no one approached him of course.

The giant of pasta, the lord of the penne
Stared mournfully out to the seas.
He should have been home, Milan or in Rome
Not Brighton with fish, chips and peas.