Friday Fictioneers : April 5, 2013

7 Apr

Tell me your story and I’ll tell you mine;
something Claire liked with a bottle of red wine.
Oh, she’d spin you a yarn of the finest of tales;
one for the ages, one to curl hair,
but did you know of Claire’s brother Peter O’blare?
He’s a monster, a wretch of a man that none can compare.
He’s buried you see, beneath that hickory tree;
dead these many years from the blood that did seep,
in from the wounds, in from the ground,
in from the pieces left when quiet did sound.
Cut off his head they did and buried it deep
buried it lower than Satan could reach.
What did he do, what did he say,
to warrant dismemberment that crisp Spring day?
I could tell you or I could not
it’ll only matter if your ever came up,
to Hickory Ridge Manor and stayed with Hugh,
you see, Hugh is the only member of ole’ granny’s crew.
He’s the one who’ll cook you some grub
and ask your name before taking you to see
what’s left of Peter’s remains.


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