BY DR. AGONSON
(Inspired by Alice Cooper’s Steven)
Down by the Graveyard’s Crooked Path—so named,
for that’s the way pallbearers bear their load—
a winding course, a twisted pave-d road,
I came unto the oak where dead men hanged.
They came alive, but dangled dead, those men.
An eerie sight to see: one might descry
amid the barren limbs—it but a lie—
a rope, an empty noose awaiting then.
Awaiting when the new moon’s darkness spreads,
with every honest soul asleep in bed,
the nine of ten—the nine ‘twere justly hanged—
their traitor call. That one escaped is named.
Is someone calling me? I hear my name?