Witches, ghouls and fiends abound,
It is the night of terror.
A black cat squwarks in bright headlamp
The sound of counter-tenor.
To the witching pool they go,
A horseshoe over water.
Spells and curses spark the air,
The coils of Satan's daughter.
A snake-pit verily is what I see,
A cursed life is mine.
For I was born so free of blame,
A twinkling star to shine.
But no more, it's not to be,
The Devil has his purchase.
He rides the corridors of Hell,
To West and East he lurches.
I sip the wine of devil-craft,
My only hope with Hecate.
I bow down with Satan's child
In mock of whirlwind's safety.
It is true, this night of terror
Gobbles up all good folks.
It spits them out, its stomach full,
Another night in Sevenoaks.
Comments
fatboy74 | October 31, 2011 - 21:37
Enjoyed this Hilary, particularly the finish which made me smile - although when I lived in Wrotham I remember Sevenoaks seemed a nice quiet little place. :-)
hilary west | October 31, 2011 - 23:59
Only joking about Sevenoaks Fatboy. I believe it's quite a nice place!
Silver Spun Sand | November 1, 2011 - 08:52
This one really had me going, Hilary...and then I came to the last line and I must admit to a little chuckle. I had an uncle once, who lived in Sevenoaks, and as a child I dreaded having to go and visit him. We always had cold butter-beans for tea. Yuk!!
Very much enjoyed.
SSS;-)
hilary west | November 1, 2011 - 15:36
Thanks for reading SSS. I remember butter beans with pork chops, just for the record!