• Garret
    By N.A. Triantaffelow

    Long black robes and tangled beard,
    He came with wagon, horse, and cheered,
    "Come one, come all!" He'd say with delight,
    "Alehaz, my tricks are right!"
    And he would dance and sing and disappear,
    Tip-and-tap was all we'd hear,
    Up on stage, grin in place,
    We'd all adore that lovely face,
    But night fell and we would sleep and sleep,
    And our fair mage would creep and creep,
    From door... to door...
    With knife in hand...
    Cutting, stabbing, without a start,
    Tearing from us, our beating heart,
    And morn would come, and he would stand,
    Up on stage, wand in hand,
    Playing, singing, new tricks today,
    Laughing, drinking, their souls away,
    Impressions, now done too well,
    For his tricks we did fell,
    And late in day he would leave,
    Much new masks in his sleeve,
    All in one, he would ride,
    And we'd awake, terrified,
    What was this new form of fear?
    A friend so well he did appear,
    But in our dreams, we would tear,
    Garret, Garret, we adore,
    Singing, dancing, all in store...
    Knife in hand, black at core,
    Garret, Garret, evermore.