The Birth of an Urban Legend

Tue, 08/27/2019 - 21:31 -- mwach

There's a half-burnt man

in the woods out back, 

where the dog won't go

and the brush is black. 

Past the old stone-stack

and the berries red

stands a musty shack⁠—

so I've heard it said.


And at night you hear

the man's ghostly scream,

coming from that shack

by the stone-stack stream.

It'll haunt your dreams, 

fill your soul with dread, 

when you hear that scream⁠—

so I've heard it said. 


The old shack caught fire, 

many years ago;

just who set the blaze, 

no one seems to know.

But no plants will grow, 

nothing there will tread

'cause the ground's hallowed⁠—

so I've heard it said.


With a face like wax, 

and with hands all scarred, 

and with eyes that glow, 

and with skin all charred;

his appearance marred

and his soul undead, 

there he guards his yard⁠—

so I've heard it said.


And this man will come,

if I'm not in bed. 

And he'll



UP... my brothers said.



This poem is about: 
Our world


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