Thursday, October 28, 2010

And now, a poem - Happy Halloween!

The Zombie Treat: A Bedtime Story

Southern witches make small stitches
Above his ghastly grin.
Tweedle green and liver lean,
The threads across his chin.

It will make a good mustache,”
Said one witch with certainty.
The second curled the ends with a laugh
And licked her lips with glee.

He'll smile upon the little children.”
How many will we need, sister?

No more than forty-three!”
To seal the deal, the zombie kissed her
His mind on the meals awaiting he.

The mustache man then wandered the land
As the witches told him to.
According to their clever plan,
He'd eat the bad kids, nasty or bland
Then give the witches their fat little hands
To make thicker their potions and brew.

He'll suck on their elbows,
And break both their thumbs!
He'll feed on the naughty, dim-witted, and dumb-
The selfish little kids who like to throw fits
Will find their blood in his beard
And in his stomach, their bits!
(With the exception of their hands,
But we've already covered this.)

And if he is quiet about his work
Disposing of the mess in the proper bins,
There'll be a nice tip and a candy bar
By the back door waiting for him.

You wonder how far he's come?
How many he's eaten to date?
Forty are gone, but there's room for three more
Bad little children who stay up too late.

So sleep well my precious loves,
And be quiet, gentle, and sweet.
Or by the back door I'll leave a nice tip
And a chocolate zombie treat.

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