Did prey alike cower together,
All shaky were the late water reeds,
And the moths that run from cruel weather.
"Beware the Monstirmae, oh young one,
The sharpest tongue and fake persona,
Beware her foul minions and do shun,
Her sharpened heart snatching claws.
He took his broken heart in hand,
Long time had he loved but now had sought,
So rested he by the tall oak tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in midthought, there he stood,
The Monstirmae with eyes of hate.
Came stomping through the silent wood,
And snarled as she came.
One two! one two! And through and through,
His wounded heart went snicker-snack!
He left hers dead, off with her imbecilic head,
He went triumphantly back.
"And, has thou slain the monster's heart?
Come to MY arms, my beamish boy!
O happy days! Hurrah! Hurray!"
He chortled in his new found joy.
Twas twilight that brought the morning chill,
Did prey alike cower together,
All shaky were the late water reeds,
And the moths that run from cruel weather.
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