By harvest moon, the demons came
With sacks and knives, their lust profane
Choosing all the golden best
They tore them from their beds of rest
Scarecrow dared not make a sound
And hugged his post set in the ground
Of the crime, he’d never tell
For fear of being dragged to hell
By morning sun, his tearful stare
Gazed upon a field, quite bare
Lowering his straw-filled head
He sadly wished that he was dead
Sold unto the eager hoards
The babes soon sat on cutting boards
How skillfully the carvers cut
Slicing through both flesh and gut
Where once had been the smoothest skin
Now are holes where light comes in
A burning candle placed within
Illuminates a fiendish grin








Very good. Nice Halloween vibe here
Frightening and jolly at the same time.
Much enjoyed.
Regards James
Thank you. I’m glad you like it.