Why hello boys and ghouls! ‘Tis the season to be creepy, so I wrote a new poem this week:
Dead Man’s Band
Six graves gone empty last night, I’m told.
Six corpses clawed through the ground.
One by one they arose in the cold,
then came a sinister sound.
One of the fellows played the trombone.
The next one strummed a guitar.
The singer began to shriek and moan
about being dead rock stars.
But that’s not all, there were three more boys.
The fourth plucked an upright bass.
Fixed on a tombstone making some noise,
a drummer kept a nice pace.
The last stiff man played a baby grand.
‘Twas a bunch of bloodless creeps!
A lovely night for the dead man’s band –
a concert for the deceased.
Dressed in their suits and reeking of death,
worms crawling out their eye holes.
Swarming flies and rotten breath,
hollowed hearts and blackened souls.
Limbs falling off, chunks of skin…
It’s a wonder they still even jammed.
If you listened to these skeletons
I think you’d surely be damned.
The full moon was out and midnight tolled –
the signal to cease and leave.
They returned to their graves in the cold
to complete All Hallows’ Eve