Pumpkin Head
La wicked bruja hechicera,
with an impious hex--
deep within the marshlands-
'neath a foul--swampy grave,
shall indeed summon
Pumpkin Head.
Rage's what he wheels,
from those who seek revenge;
Restitution for the reckless end
of a love-one, who's been slain.
Her Abyss fiend, ghastly nights
of vengeance spreads.
'Tis best and wiser yet
to kneel in silent prayer.
Repent, for it's the only tool
the hunted have to soothe
the impinging gloom
of dark that looms.
For those he stalks
don't stand a chance;
The Reaper's minion
feeds his thirst
with bloody-blugent preys,
la hechicera dooms.
Sinners atone, confronting
their fate--with a wicker fort
made faith that rots;
For pleas and screams,
like wood ablaze-only excite
his callus, morbid heart.
Condemned souls
who bear the witch's mark.
Hell hound will dissecting hunt.
For the following dawn
are found only severed heads
with bods from limbs apart.
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