Fee Fi Fo Fum

Lucas started trying to recite the Fee Fi Fo Fum poem.  I assumed he learned it at school, and I didn't remember the poem except for the first line.  So I googled it (as I do everything, I have a real problem) and this is how the poem goes:

Fee! Fie! Foe! Fum!
I smell the blood of an Englishman.
Be he 'live, or be he dead,
I'll grind his bones to make my bread.

I without thinking read this to my four year old.  And THEN I comprehended it. 

What the hell is up with these nursery rhymes???? 

The other night Lucas picked up a book with the story Hansel and Gretel in it.  That is the story he wanted to read.  I - again - have forgotten how the story goes.  Something about bread crumbs in the forest. 

So we read it. 

THE MOTHER abandons her young children in the forest.  Not once.  But twice. 

This was supposed to be a soothing bedtime story.  In fact, that was the title of the book.  BEDTIME STORIES. 

Really? 

"Here children, let's all cuddle on the couch and read this nice warm fuzzy story about a witch that keeps Hansel in a cage so she can fatten him up and EAT him. And don't you ever push anyone into a furnace and burn them to death like Gretel did - she was working under extreme conditions. . . Good night.  Sleep tight. Mommy loves you and would never leave you in the forest to starve to death."