The title of Kevin Moore's one man show, Crocodiles in Cream, is taken from one of Lewis Carroll's poems, from his two-part romantic novel, Sylvie and Bruno.
 

	Little Birds are dining    Warily and well,    Hid in mossy cell: Hid, I say, by waiters Gorgeous in their gaiters-    I've a Tale to tell. Little Birds are feeding    Justices with jam    Rich in frizzled ham: Rich, I say, in oysters Haunting shady cloisters-   That is what I am. Little Birds are teaching    Tigresses to smile,    Innocent of guile: Smile, I say, not smirkle- Mouth a semicircle,    That's the proper style! Little Birds are sleeping    All among the pins,    Where the loser wins: Where, I say, he sneezes When and how he pleases-    So the Tale begins.
	~
	Little Birds are writing    Interesting books,    To be read by cooks: Read, I say, not roasted- Letterpress, when toasted,    Loses its good looks. Little Birds are playing    Bagpipes on the shore,    Where the tourists snore: "Thanks!" they cry. "'Tis thrilling! Take, oh take this shilling!    Let us have no more!" Little Birds are bathing    Crocodiles in cream,    Like a happy dream: Like, but not so lasting- Crocodiles, when fasting,    Are not all they seem!
	~
	Little Birds are choking    Baronets with bun,    Taught to fire a gun: Taught, I say, to splinter Salmon in the winter-    Merely for the fun Little Birds are hiding    Crimes in carpet-bags,    Blessed by happy stags: Blessed, I say, though beaten- Since our friends are eaten    When the memory flags. Little Birds are tasting    Gratitude and gold,    Pale with sudden cold: Pale, I say, and wrinkled- When the bells have tinkled,    And the Tale is told.
	~