adrigravestone

There was a crooked man, who walked a crooked mile. He found a crooked sixpence, upon a crooked stile. He bought a crooked cat, who caught a crooked mouse, and they all lived together in a crooked little house... But the crooked man was sad... and once he had a thought. Why should he be crooked, when others; were not. Everything was worthless, he heaved a great sigh, and went and found a rope, and tied it to the sky. upon a chair he stood, his eyes blank and dead, without another thought, he went and hung his head. Now the story's not yet over, for this tale is myth-ed and old, go hide under the cover. There's something not yet tol

When I was a child of only three, The rotted man came for me. Late one night, from my open door, He slowly crept across the floor. — He took me by the hand and said, “I’ll save you from this life of dread.” We left the house in the early  morn’, And took his carriage of black and thorn. — We rode for hours, through thick dense fog, To a darkened, unlit black swamp bog. With topless trees and hanging moss, Were safe shields from the bitter frost. — The thick, dense heat and the cool, crisp air Crept up your back and through your hair. He took me to his house of bones, On a path l