youngest son of the late Harriet and Patrick Clergue.
Axendough, a legend of old
A monster unspeakable from a realm untold
(Listen to my warning, and let the story unfold!)
As the legend shall go:
His heart was black,
Cold, cruel, and callous.
He wore tattered robes which hung slack
From his frame, a body deserving the gallows.
As tall as a tower,
Endowed with hideous strengths,
In short: a monster.
To what lengths
Would he go to avenge himself?
I pray that we never know,
Nay, not even myself!
With claws like knives,
The shadow in the dark
Preys upon children, men, and wives
Without leaving trace nor mark.
The spell caster casts out his curses
With neither thought nor impunity.
He has been relegated to the tales told
To children by their nurses
But fear him still, yes, for he is here
Who may stop him?
All is futility.