Grave Makers Poem by Daniel Mentor

They stooped sullen
Their friends eloped sudden
Grave makers in the woods
Meowing and hooting to the hoods
Now sleep sleep my little child
Dare not think to chide
Those you knew are lost
Look out! 'tis a ghost

The moon is full and thrills
The night gusty and kills
Many a kid who wonders the lane
Like your friend who met his bane
Sleep sleep my little child
Dare not open that treacherous eyes
To your doom beyond the yard
Grave makers in their pack.