The Sisters of Bowling Green

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Gigaloes beware.

I think I posted this last year but thought I'd bring it back.

Two sisters it seems lived near Bowling Green,
Each a beauty in every way.
One fair it is told with hair of pure gold,
Eyes blue as the sky in May.

The other brunette, the lovely Collette,
With eyes a deep, warm brown,
Two beautiful girls with masses of curls,
The most sought after girls around.

Wherever they went they turned heads and gents,
Would follow it seemed in their wake.
They were ladies of leisure, used to parties and pleasure,
And their father spared naught for their sake.

A young man came their way one fine summer day.
Debonair and handsome was he.
He charmed his way in, with each sister he sinned,
But he'd learn that their favors weren't free.

Their father was wealthy, his bank account healthy.
The young man thought he'd hit his mark,
But to his dismay he found out that day,
To dally with these girls not smart.

Behind him he'd left many hearts bereft,
And he thought the sisters the same.
But together they came and called out his name,
And their family knew who to blame.

'Tis a very small man who will take a girl's hand,
Then leave her ashamed and in tears.
To be left in the mud covered in blood,
Would now be the least of his fears.

Because of deception they'd shared his affection,
Now he would deal with their father.
The old man cried out with a mighty shout,
And the young man began to grow smaller.

A small man I see, a small man ye be,
And never no more shall they see ye.
In a prison ye'll live in a prism I give,
To my daughters where they will keep thee.

There is no escape, this is your fate,
For your crimes now you'll pay the fee.
You'll live in this locket I draw from my pocket,
Until they no longer desire thee.

The sisters could share it, each one could wear it,
And he would be theirs forever.
Trapped in the locket he took from his pocket,
Because of his wicked endeavors.

Now the sisters it seems visit him in his dreams,
So he isn't too lonely at all.
Though filled with depression he's their prized possession,
Trapped in that little gold ball.

Kept locked in his prison to madness he's driven,
And the sight of it leaves them in stitches.
Never play fast and loose or attempt to misuse,
The tender affections of witches.

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