Demon Herd (Revised) (Not Suitable For Young Children) Poem by Mary Naylor

Round-Up Time (Prelude)

Cowboys from Hell ride on this range.
There's no skin on their bones, now isn't that strange?
They're looking for stragglers on this hot, glowing road.
For those that Heaven won't have, must be Hell is their abode!

HEEE-YAH! Hear the crack of that whip?
Watch out! They shoot from the hip!
Move along, you black-souled varmints! There's no need for words,
Because they're taking you, to the Demon Herd!

The Demon Herd

Down in the wastelands, there's a frightening sight,
That can only be seen on Halloween night.
In the lowering clouds, a vast herd of bulls appear,
With hooves that stamp thunder, and red eyes that sear!

Behind them straggle skeletons with bones that rattle,
Bound hand and foot in chains, and yoked like cattle.
On All Hallows Eve, the eve of souls that died,
Shuffle the perpetrators of genocides.

The bulls have glowing, gleaming horns, and nostrils snorting fire,
Pawing the clouds, they are not by men or angel hosts squired.
With booming crashes, blinding lightening, who leads this choir?
If they are a demon herd, then who is their sire?

Branded in each skull, a cloven hoof still smokes.
If they stumble or fall, a fiery horn gives them a poke.
A wind from Hell arises, and they all vanish from sight,
But they'll be back again, on next Halloween night!