Purebred

Another old text I've made, playing around with rhyming and new interpretations on classic tales.

And so it was upon that blurry night
That little miss Lucy had a crushing fright
That the shrouded bush might again spring-
a wild and dire thing.

Toothed, jagged and dreadful-
coming to take from her a mouthful.
To leave her bloodied, dead and empty,
to make her know her mortality and frailty.

As she pitter-pattered through the thicket,
she heard none but a cheerful cricket-

-

For a moment, but only for a moment-

-Little miss Lucy felt quite secure,
blissfully unbeknownst of the curious observateur-

-Solemnly watching the girl so red,
romancing on the life she'd shed.
Maundering how generously the last one bled,
at the claws of this purebred.

As it pitter-pattered through the thicket,
it heard none but a cheerful cricket,

-

O, a fright the bush did spring
and teeth and claw it did bring.
Purebred sure of it's kill,
Little miss Lucy stood only still.

Adamant in her stand
Before a beast so grand
She did naught but extend her hand,
and before her the beast did land.

New respect been found,
Purebred laid to ground.

As she pitter-pattered throug the thicket,
she heard none but a cheerful cricket.

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