With the holiday upon us, here's one more suitable poem - this one from Australia:
THE GRIESLY BRIDE
"Lie down, my newly married wife,
Lie easy as you can.
You're young and ill-accustomed yet
To sleeping with a man."
The snow was deep, the moon was full,
As it shone on the cabin floor.
His young bride rose without a word
And ran barefoot through the door.
He up and followed, fast and sure,
And an angry man was he,
But his young bride was not e'er in sight,
And only the moon shone clearly.
He followed her track through the new deep snow,
Calling out loud her name.
Only the dingoes in the hills
Howled back at him again.
Then the hair stood up along his neck,
And his angry mind was gone,
For where the two-foot track gave out,
A four-footed track went on.
Her nightgown lay upon the snow
As it might on a bed sheet,
And the tracks that led from where it lay
Were never of human feet.
He started in to walking becak
And then began to run,
And his quarry turned all in her track
And hunted him in turn.
An empty bed still waits for him
As he lies in a crimson tide.
Beware, beware, O trapper men,
Beware of a griesly bride.
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