The Book Of Twisted Tales

Evil Jack Horner

Lurking there in a darkened corner
A demonic version of Little Jack Horner

His thumb skewing a beating heart
Instead of being buried inside a plum tart

Burning red eyes that can torch a soul
Watching eagerly for the next meal for his bowl

Needle-sharp teeth to put a wolf to shame
Dripping with the blood of his last caught game

His body is contorted, slimy and sleek
Hideous and not a sight for the weak

He flicks out a forked tongue to lick up a vein
Like a noodle he slurps it to feed his twisted brain

Gurgling sounds deep down in his throat he makes
As another strip of flesh from the bone he takes

Through his slavering jaws he says in a demon’s cry
What a good boy I am, what a good boy am I

Now a sound to his pointed ears does come
The smell of live meat of which he wants some

You may want to run before he gets to his feet
For I cannot guarantee which of us he will eat

The sight is not good, I know that is true
But my survival instinct makes me glad that he got you

So let me make clear now to all my warning
In dark corners lurks Jack, on bones a-gnawing

And at your juicy flesh you will see him leer
I urge you to leave him be and do not go near

Lurking there in that darkened corner
The demon spawn waits in the form of Evil Jack Horner