Aaron Tolopilo

Gahldor was

A lonely old man

Who lived away in the woods

He sharpened his knife

And cleaned his own musket

Because he said no one else could

And then every morning

In the creepy, cold fog

He’d see strange tracks in the loam

“They’re back!” he’d growl,

He’d grimace and scowl

As he trudged on back to his home

Back in his cabin

He’d make strange traps

Lethal in shape and design:

With knife blades

And saw blades,

clubs and spikes,

Nooses and razors

And cudgels and pikes!

Then he’d set those traps

In the tracks he had found

and scratch his name on a stone

He’d watch from a tree

And chew on his nails

As he sat in the dark all alone