The Grim

A Spooky Nursery Rhyme

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At the base of the trunk of the old oak tree
As Autumn night falls in evening, you see

There slinks from beneath that gnarled dark wood,
In shadows, the Grim—that bane of all good. 

You'll smell in the air a scent of pure grief, 
And see rotting apples beside crushed leaf.

Oh, do beware, lest you hear the wind howl
For the Grim is around and wearing a scowl. 

He'll blow out your light and raise your neck hair,
He'll rattle your dishes and topple your chair. 

When the Grim comes awake the days feel cold,
With each step that he takes he leaves behind mold.

He hates every flower and picks every petal, 
But I've heard it said, once, he can't touch the nettle. 

That's why every year we garner the green, 
We string them together and place them between 

The door of the house and the forrest outside.
Now the Grim cannot find us or come inside.

So don't worry, my dear, there is nothing to fear;
Only.... don't you get lost, or you might disappear.    

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