Bloody Words

TheTale Of JonnyBoon

In '53, four days to soon,
A little boy called Jonny Boon
Was born beneath a full blue moon,
On his mothers final breath.

And as his poor sweet mother died,
In a pool of blood his father lied,
After bullets struck him in the side
While he robbed a bank and left.

Vultures screeched and ravens cawed,
Above the place where Jon was born.
They knew well what he had in store,
That boy was born of death.

Foul little Jonny, as he grew,
Was not the same as me or you,
He liked to squash bugs 'neath his shoe,
And he rarely ever wept.

If other children tried to play
With Jonny, (kids are kind that way)
He'd strike them with a swift melee
Until their noses bled.

Through the years his ills got worse,
His foster folks thought him perverse,
But death and blood was Jonnys curse.
Of heart he was bereft.

He went from bugs to birds and frogs,
And on from those to cats and dogs,
With axe he split their heads like logs,
Then watched them as they bled.

But growing Jonny wasn't done
Removing heads from pets for fun,
He kept his eyes peeled for someone
Who had no loved ones left.

So, one day, it came to pass
Whilst walking down a woodland path,
A homeless man did stumble past,
Jons small black heart just leapt.

Later on that very night
Jonny Boon hid out of sight,
And gave that homeless man a fright
By caving in his head.

Oh how this lifted Jonnys mood,
This evil made him feel so good.
That night within the moonlit wood,
He cried before he slept.

Now little Jonny's found his place;
Murder lit that strange boys face.
And of the man they found no trace.
His dark secret was kept.

Ten years on and Jon's a man,
He picks off drifters when he can,
With smiling eyes and axe in hand,
He shares their final breath.

One day he knows his show must end,
And time in prison he will spend.
Until that day he'll be your friend,
If you'd like to dance with death.