A Poem about the
Demon in Whitehouse.
AND TURNS NO MORE HIS HEAD
BECAUSE HE KNOWS A FRIGHTFUL FIEND
DOTH CLOSE BEHIND HIM TREAD"
-Night of the demon
He lives in the whitehouse on Sparky Lane,
he thinks heís the president but heís quite insane.
A fucking old grumpy git,
that flies into a raging fit,
if someone parks on his bit,
then they will get loads of shit.
Canít you see the sign
- KEEP OFF Ė you swine
and park elsewhere
cos I donít care.
The lanes my patch
and I am daddy
so donít park here
or Iíll have a paddy.
But one time when rushing home,
I park my car just by his home,
he cast a curse so fast,
that would make that night my very last.
As I was listening to my tunes,
he pushed a letter of ancient runes,
through the door it fell upon floor,
and burnt away forever more.
The following night the Demon came,
with gnashing teeth it called my name.
I ran through Bluebell woods late that night,
a fiery demon giving flight.
I begged him to undone the Demon curse,
but this only made it fucking worse,
in seven days you will die,
and join the demon in the sky.
his face went red and he did crap,
on Saturday next I will die,
can no one help me with this problem,
maybe I should ring the Goblin.
So beware the Curse of Sparky Lane,
and the demon bringing pain
or is it just - a Fuckin tale,
written by a blubber whale.
was this tale of horror
ďNight of DemonĒ you did borrow,
a similar story but with different names
was written by a Mr James.