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Never told Nursery Rhymes

Poetry

Are these the sort of things you like, my dear? the stories and the rhymes that make you shake? are you the sort who seeks darkness and fear? I surely hope you are, for your own sake. In here you'll meet the fear who has a face, in here you'll feel...

#dark #gothic #grim #nurseryrhymes #poetry #spooky

Slick Mick and Skinner

223 20 1

by Nuyadha

by Nuyadha

Two men were playing,
When they should be praying,
Two men were playing,
At a game of cards.

Two men did wager,
Stranger to stranger,
Two men did wager,
Wicked, their regards.

Slick Mick and Skinner,
Each of them a sinner,
Slick Mick and Skinner,
Two men both in vice.

Thick set was Skinner,
While Slick Mick was thinner,
Thicker was Skinner,
Than the other, twice.

"I shall wager fifty"
"Now that's very nifty,
You may wager fifty,
I want something real."

"I will hurt you badly,
And I'll do it gladly,
I will hurt you badly,
So you'll never heal."

Two men were dealing,
Bluffing and revealing,
Two men were dealing,
Wagering with flesh

"I want your heart, sir,
Wholly, not in parts, sir,
I want your heart, sir,
Plucked and bloody fresh."

"Oh, you may have it,
I'm not in the habit,
Oh, you may have it,
Only if you swear."

"If, when you take it,
Somehow, I make it
If, when you take it,
Somehow I'm still there,

"Then you will owe me,
And you must bestow me,
Then you will owe me,
You must give me yours."

"Your heart is yellow,
Great, fatty fellow,
Your heart is yellow,
Gilded, it's worth scores."

Slick Mick was losing,
Quite against his choosing,
Slick Mick was losing,
Which they'd both regret.

His heart was thumping,
Spurting and pumping,
His heart was thumping,
When he lost the bet.

Tied to a table,
Oh so very stable,
Tied to a table,
Skinner plucked his heart.

Oh, he was screaming,
Dying, he was seeming,
Oh, he was screaming,
Yes, that seemed to smart.

Though he was heartless,
He stood regardless,
Though he was heartless,
Walked into the night.

So then, the winner,
Happy Mister Skinner,
So then the winner,
Still his face was white.

When he was sleeping,
He would see Mick creeping,
When he was sleeping,
That was all he dreamed.

Eyes wide and milky,
Hair lank and silky,
Eyes, wide and milky,
Horrible, he seemed.

Slick Mick was coming,
His heart no more drumming,
Slick Mick was coming,
To be paid his due.

Skinner was shaken,
And was unmistaken,
Skinner was shaken,
Nothing he could do.

His heart was beating,
Loudly it was bleating,
His heart was beating,
Waiting to be plucked

By needle-fingers,
In a hand that lingers,
By needle fingers,
Oh, what dreadful luck.