Did you see him in the shadows
With those horns upon his head?
Did you feel his cold and scaly skin
With the texture of melting lead?
Did you smell that rancid stench
From the bodies of his dead
And the blood, that has hardley dried,
Among the feathers of his bed?
We shall retire to the drawing-room,
Now that my body has its head,
He wants to thank his dinner guests
For the limbs that they've shed.
Such dinners fall on Halloween
At the haunted house of the Pendergased.
He is such a charmer, and a gracious host,
Until he consumes the last.
D. Thurmond / JEF
10-24-2015
Rew. 08-29-2020
Submitted: October 24, 2015
© Copyright 2021 D. Thurmond aka JEF. All rights reserved.
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Bert Broomberg
Funny one, I liked it a lot.
Wed, October 28th, 2015 10:52pmAuthor
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Thanks!
Thu, October 29th, 2015 11:03am