The Beast

A midsummer's day turned any old night, Yet my wife, my wife was nowhere in sight. Around the town I searched with frantic celerity, Yearning for a glimpse of her blonde-haired gaeity. Her friends, I spotted, her friends did say That she went into the wood before cockcrow that day. This wood, this wood were no ordinary wood; Inside was a beast, over ten feet he stood. Or so they had said, the survivors that could. The survivors that escaped from that blasphemous wood. I gathered my steel and clambered atop the balustrade To broadcast and gather a mob for my trade. - It were a sleepy morning in my comfortable wood, When along came a thing; pink, fleshy, and I stood I stood up and waved as the fleshy things do, But this one kept quiet for a second or two. A second or two with my claws in the air, Jiggling, jingling, and my teeth left abare. I mimicked my best at what the fleshy things do, But this one, this one made a loud noise, too, Just like the rest of the pink fleshy things do. The birds went a-flying and the deer went a-running, But the sound, the sound, it just kept a-coming. I did what I did to the many before, And quieted that thing, forevermore.