Something wretched this way comes.
Its chains rattle,
its hollow eyes,
I should run if I were wise.
Something wretched this way comes.
My chin chatters,
as coyotes howl,
I should run, instead, I prowl.
Something wretched this way comes.
Goosebumps spread,
it's closer now,
it's breath so foul.
Something wretched this way comes.
Its hair matted,
Its jaw unhinged,
I should run, instead, I cringe.
Something wretched your way comes.
Its chains rattle,
its arms extend,
You are next, skeptic friend.
Sharon L. Carr (c) all rights reserved
From Yarns From Ozark Storytellers
Amazon.com
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