Saint Patty's Night At The Crown

A little change of pace today with a little poem of mine. This is filled with sweet love and compassion. NOT! Enjoy.




Saint Patty's Night At The Crown



It was  St. Patty's  at the Crown,
And no ones' face did have a frown.

Green beer into pitchers flowin',
Luscious women charms a showin'.

Revelry was high and mighty,
Passions rose and sex was flighty.

And in the basement was a place,
Where men and women could embrace.

Twas' many rooms with each a bed,
A perfect place to lay one's head.

Into the night the scent did rise,
As lovers uttered their sweet cries.

Amidst' the glory of orgasms,
A little man had fits and spasms.

He lived behind the wall so near,
In tunnel dark he had no fear.

For he could come and he could go,
His presence not would have to show.

A leprechaun so small was he,
Indeed his size was hard to see.

But now the joy these people feel,
He knew for fact he had to steal.

And so he slipped out through a door,
With axe in hand he crept on floor.

In each and ev'ry room he came,
And took them into his new game.

His axe he reared above his head,
Before the men their brains did shred.

The bodies he would shove aside,
Then on their ladies  jump astride.

As soon as he had had his fun,
His axe would fall and she was done.

In ev'ry room the scene replayed,
Their guts and organs all were splayed.

He took his axe and went upstairs,
Relieved the patrons of their cares.

Before that fateful night was done,
Where had been many now was none.

Past cut up bodies he did go,
Back to the tunnel with a glow.

His lack of stature  mattered not,
He had to do what was his lot.

So now he went back to his nest,
Prepared to get some needed rest.

A warning now to one and all,
St. Patty's Day is not a ball.

In to the Crown you should not go,
The fear of Leprechaun to show.

For ev'ry year he will arrive,
And many will not leave alive.



Blaze McRob