Beast Of Codden Moor Poem by graham russell

fear rides the beast of codden moor
the men are hunting the beast of
codden moor

it run, s as fast as legs will carry
it, s breath steam, s on air so crisp
it, s heart beats a tempo of it, s own
faster faster faster faster faster
you beast of codden moor

but men ride horse, s fast as wind
to catch a beast on codden moor
that falls and tumbles through the snow
upon codden moor

it raises a head of strengh and beauty
a horn of bone lies within the head
of a beast of codden moor

death comes quick as spears stab down
as swords swish as they find virgin flesh
on this beast of codden moor