Firestorm Fingers
Have you heard the story of the Chattlewhump, my son?
The lungs that wheeze, the fire that burns, young bairn?
Let me tell it, just this time,
To scare away the night
Or else, from lifeless cinders, mould an image of the King
And render him most sadly, a quite unliving being.
Let me see it ere I die
But - never ask me why...
For phantasms are the stuff of life and give to man a thrill
And keep him quite ecstatic, till it's time to pay the bill
Let me bark it, in the night,
give me thrills and give me fright
Thrills that cause the blood to race, the humours all to flow;
The blood to race, the heart to bleed, the nose to quiver so
Contributors: | donny, Apsley, Beefy, Vid, Grayman, fester, TG, Mystico. |
Poem finished: | 19th February 2001. |