The Werecrow

When the night is dark
and rough winds blow
until tweets the lark
the moon will grow

and in its shine
close where the wild streams flow
on a branch of a pine
in the shadows sharp teeth glow.

That’s where it hides.
That’s where it resides.
But if you are prow
and you want to know
I will tell you – all jokes aside
the tale of the werecrow.

A werecrow? You might ask
in disbelief and on the go
But telling the tale is now my task
you might as well listen to it though.

It’s starts with a young man named Jack
being a chimney sweeper was his profession
Diligent he climbed in his garments that were black
each roof in the village, it bordered on obsession.

In the evening to the local pub he went
to meet his friends and drink a pint
and close to one cosy evening’s end
a story was told that stuck in his mind.

“Never work on the roof
on a stormy full moon night.
I can’t give you proof
but what I heard might
be no spoof.”
said a man with eyes bright.

“Why not?” wondered Jack
“I see no harm in this.”
“You fool, I will tell you, sit back,”
the guy said it with a hiss.

“The former sweeper, he didn’t listen
and so the one who was here before.
They all went when lightning glistened
and no one has seen them anymore.”

“That’s all?”, Jack laughed in relief
and patted him on the back.
“They moved to the next city, I believe.
And since I’m here, there is no lack.”

“Still be careful, young man,”
the man swayed his head in sorrow.
Jack said: “I will do the best I can.
We’ll see each other tomorrow.”

Not long after this strange occasion
Jack was still on a roof high
although the night had made it’s invasion
and a full moon made the clouds pry.

A thunderstorm started to gather
and Jack began his tools to stow
he grabbed with both hands the tether
to climb down carefully and slow.

But as his foot touched the latter’s metal
a thunderbolt struck down with a growl
Jack slumped into a position foetal
then jumped up with a ferocious howl.

From his skin black feathers started to grow
and his mouth transformed into a beak
with white sharp teeth that show
that this guy in the pub was no freak.

Incautious Jack was in this night
turned into a monstrous werecrow.
And if you dare in the murky light
you can find him at the streams below.

That’s where it hides.
That’s where it resides.
within a stone’s throw
our Jack, the werecrow.

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