Like the dark Jibberdee of Old Combesarke!
And little Nessa it did see
And carried her off against her will
To imprison her behind that grille.
By that it aimed to summon me
To a final battle ’neath its tree.
For above this pit a great tree stands
That casts a shadow across the land;
It grows above the shatek’s lair
At the very top of the thousandth stair
And bears fruit of such slimy green
That would taint the womb of a virgin queen.
Its leaves they twist and turn and glower
And fall each spring in a malevolent shower
To poison soul and wither breast
And churn the soil so the dead can’t rest.
But my silver blade is very sharp,
It weaves strange patterns in the dark.
Its curvy point is sharp and long,
As thirsty as my slithery tongue.
So I wield my blade
And my blade’s my song!
Six feet begin to tap on stone
With a click and a snap of flexing bone,
As with agile flesh and cunning leers
They seek to multiply my fears.
But I whirl my blade with a swish and hiss
Because I’ve been there and I’ve done this;
I’ve seen the sand that hides the stains,
I’ve seen the corpses bound with chains,
I’ve seen the daemon lord called ‘Hob’,
And I’ve heard the falling virgins sob.
For I know the pit where his mother lies,
Smelled the blood, heard the drone of flies,
Seen the vultures haunt the skies.
And I know this dance,
I know its pattern well,
Even better than the path to Hell!
So I lift my blade and licks my lips
Until six eyes pop like orange pips
And I shuffles left and I shuffles right
And weaves strange patterns in the night.
First blood to me as I takes a head
With a blow so swift it out-speeds dread,
Then quick as thought I strikes again,
And two heads roll now as a pair,
And squelch and bounce from stair to stair
Deep down in the bowels of the shatek’s lair.
O boastful lord of this ancient tree,
What a fool you be to mess with me!
For I’ve tortured sharks in the deepest seas
And made them vomit boggarts’ knees;
I’ve savaged eagles in their nests
And bit the bones from ogres’ chests;
I’ve hunted vampires in the east
And laughed in the face of Satan’s priest.
O boastful lord of this ancient tree,
This is what Nessa swore to me:
That our love was like a petal tree,
And ere the sun falls in the sea
I’ve promised Nessa she’ll be free!
But he tries once more to cut me down
With a twist, a leer and an evil frown.
But I shuffle left and I shuffle right,
And strike a blow with all my might.
And through helmet, hauberk, shield and breast,
My blade it cuts from east to west.
Faster than falcon stoops to prey
My blade it cuts that fiend away.
O boastful lord of this ancient tree,
What a fool you were to mess with me,
For even in death I’m bound to win
Despite my darkest secret sin,
For I’ll go to a world called Kinderquest,
A sphere where even the damned are blest.
Where they can rest for a thousand years
In a deep warm sleep beyond all fears,
Until when bored with ‘safe and dark’
They spread new wings and soar with the lark
High into a heaven of the deepest blue
Where all their secret dreams come true.
The battle’s over, the victory’s won
But the final deed is not yet done.
For little Nessa I do see
Still tapping on her silken knee!
So I carve her flesh in succulent slices
And add a pinch of pungent spices.
Then boil her up to make a broth
And soothe away my latent wrath.
For although I loved our downy bed
I’m happier still when I’ve been fed!