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For Love Of The Beast
by Pony Newman
Oh say have you seen the Thylacine, sitting in the pale moonlight?
Doesn't he know he can't exist, and I wonder if he'd bite?
In silent dignity he sits, this beast of darkest dreams.
Round his shoulders, a royal cloak of years in moonlight streams.
Have you seen those eyes glowing as the brightest coals of Hell?
How can you turn your back on the stories so many tell?
With a breath of ancient dread and fear, the wind begins to blow.
Where he comes and how he goes, is not for man to know.
Oh say have you seen the Thylacine sitting in the pale moonlight?
Are we worthy, and would we know if what we saw was right?
Copyright - Pony Newman. All rights reserved.
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