Gahldor
Aaron Tolopilo
Gahldor was
A lonely old man
Who lived away in the woods
He sharpened his knife
And cleaned his own musket
Because he said no one else could
And then every morning
In the creepy, cold fog
He’d see strange tracks in the loam
“They’re back!” he’d growl,
He’d grimace and scowl
As he trudged on back to his home
Back in his cabin
He’d make strange traps
Lethal in shape and design:
With knife blades
And saw blades,
clubs and spikes,
Nooses and razors
And cudgels and pikes!
Then he’d set those traps
In the tracks he had found
and scratch his name on a stone
He’d watch from a tree
And chew on his nails
As he sat in the dark all alone