Sweet Abby was walking alone Her brother and sister, gone She followed the wind and sidewalk ahead An escort to home, she had none
She whistled as she walked along Her song as pitch as black Her batty hat upon her head Her bow upon her back
The little girl's face was grim as could be As she walked along the road Sparkling eyes stared into yours And so the story's told
If ever you're walking down A street and you're alone Don't listen to the little girl Who wants to follow you home
Phantom Mutt · Thu Nov 26, 2009 @ 02:58am · 0 Comments |