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Upon
a high rock, a lighted castle so grand, Flickering
lights from the dungeon emit with a flash, A
sorcerer feeds a monster ‘til dark noon, More
credit, more credit! Expand, expand! Devour,
devour! And take by stealth, what could otherwise be known, The
lords of the castle, provisions much lower, The
castle lords release the ghouls and goblins of the night, The
villagers, so helpless, a silver stake missing, A
slimy black creature hides in the bogs, Darkness
creeps forth with evenings’ long sun past due, A
fitful sleep awaits this long journey into fright, The
werewolves are howling, the people listen in fear, The
villagers lay awake; it’s the middle of the night; A
howling more fierce to our utter dismay, A
monster’s ball for all who choose to see, An
old sorcerer grows weary, having done all in his might, An
apprentice waits yonder, in ye fair tower of ivory; Do
not so much dither; there is much work in the fight, The
monsters have gathered, your Grand Wizards Book in hand, You
will scream, you will screech, you will cajole aplenty; you hope to
avail? A
sorcerer’s apprentice will take over the tiller, A
witch from the East works at a cauldron; incantations spoken, Lower
wages, layoffs, pensions no more! Deflate! Deflate! The
witch of the East, residing in her growing tall tower, The
cauldrons fog grows denser as it goes forth, a grim reaper knocks? The
villager says, “What further harm this knowledge can bring, I pray? To
the graveyard I’m brought, to a fresh headstone I must gaze, “RIP
to those of the middle!” A
class that once played such a great lasting role, The
apprentice returns to his parlor bewildered, pipe and books near at
hand, But
alas, the monsters hear the voice of a new piper; The
cauldron’s fog carries new power and prowess,
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