The clock struck twelve in the village,
All was quiet and bleak,
Nor the birds nor humans creak.
The street lamp began to flicker.
A howling noise came from the woods,
The village elders came out wearing hoods.
They had a gun and one silver bullet,
They went on a hunt to try to shoot it.
They entered the wood were no human went,
CRACK! they stepped on a twig and began to repent.
There was a black silhouette figure standing there,
It was covered with loads of thick brown hair.
BANG! Went the gun & they shot it dead,
They shot his neck &off came the head.
It rolled down the hill & into the lake,
The elders went home & began to bake.
nice poem..good use of words...i really liked it...keep sharing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Das is good. This poem shows good characteristic and is quite light hearted and funny.