For I am a great wizzard
Who has turned himself into a beast.
One hundred cubits tall
With jaws that gape
And teeth more fearful than the fangs of ancient dragons
My claws like the scythes that armed the wheels of warriors chariots.
My eyes flash fire,
I exhale poisonous smoke,
And could devour you at a bite.
Dog if you are wise you will agree
Do not account me,a small timmid creature,
Arching its back to try to frighten you.
Just go away and do not compel me
To break my spell
And retire up a tree.
Words by Paul Gallico.