EXCERPT - Hero is a Four Letter Word

The Dark Lord and the Seamstress

The Dark Lord and the Seamstress first published by J.M. Frey (Amazon CreateSpace 2014)

*

Once upon a time, oh yes,
So very long ago,
There was of course a lovely girl,
Who came to learn to sew.

Deft hand at knots and ties,
Fingers nimble on a seam,
Her fame spread far and even wide,
O'er every hill and stream.

And as it goes, fair listener,
She learned to sew so well
That even the Dark Lord himself
Heard of her talent, down in Hell.

Now the Dark Lord was a kindly fellow,
Not like he's drawn in books,
But He was old, and his style was too,
And he longed to change his looks.

He sent a fiery imp up
For to ask the girl
If she would care to join Him,
Down where the sulfur curls.

He promised needles made of gold,
And threads of finest silk,
And devils to attend on her,
And pour her morning milk.

The lovely girl was wary,
But her family was quite poor,
And if she came, the Dark Lord said,
Fortune would find their door.

So she kissed her Mom and Father,
And packed herself a sack,
And followed the imp down the road to Hell,
And never once looked back.

Now, they said her special talent
Could not be outdone,
But of her stunning beauty,
The Dark Lord had heard none.

So when she came into His Hall,
That dark and brimstone cove,
With mind so bright and skin so smooth,
The Dark Lord fell in Love.

Hell was filled with much despair,
And sinners all lament.
Life and purity like hers
Had time in Hell ne'er spent.

He bowed and then she curtseyed,
And He rose to kiss her hand,
And vowed to himself right then
She'd be Queen of his queer land.

They sat and dined together,
And they talked an awful lot,
About the colours he should wear;
Of trousers, shirts, and frocks.

It was very close to cock's crow
When He saw her to her room,
And left alone His bride-to-be
To cut patterns in the gloom.

Now, our little seamstress was not slow,
Nor was she blind or laze,
And it was obvious to her bright eyes
That the Dark Lord was quite crazed.

He seemed to think Magenta Pink
Would suit His skin of red.
He also seemed to think that she
Ought join him in a marriage bed.

So the lovely girl sat and sewed
And pondered as she went:
How to turn down Hell itself
When its Master's will was bent?

Then just before she fell asleep
Somewhere around noon-time,
She struck upon an answer
That seemed to suit just fine.

And when she woke at sunset
To find the Dark Lord at her door,
She went with Him to dinner,
And they spoke just as before.

He asked after her parents,
And wondered what they were like,
Asked her if she was married,
With a husband and a tyke.

When the lovely girl did answer,
It was with a heartfelt sigh.
She wrung her hands and bowed her head,
and gasped, "How alone am I!"

The handsome Dark Lord, quite confused,
Asked her what was wrong.
She pursed her lips and took a breath,
And sang this little song:

"A maiden with a talent,"
She sang with voice so sweet,
"Cannot be wed to any man
Who her talent cannot meet.

If she happens to be a baker,
He must make cakes, too.
If she is good at writing books,
Then he an author through-and-through

Thus has it been for ages,"
The lovely girl did lie,
"So unless my groom makes a wedding gown,
I'll never be a bride."

The Dark Lord thought a moment,
Then excused Himself and left,
And pondered on His course of action
Lest of a bride He was bereft.

She waited 'till He parted,
Then began to laugh out loud.
She had invented that whole song,
A feat that made her proud.

For it was notorious,
That although the Dark Lord did well
At snatching souls and cursing Gods,
He couldn't sew worth Hell.

He'd try, she knew, to woo her,
With cloth, and snaps, and thread,
But his gown would be quite dreadful,
And she, out of the red.

So she returned unto her chambers,
To finish up her task,
But heard a dreadful howling sound
In another room she passed.

She peeked into an open door,
And there was struck quite dumb,
To see the Dark Lord on His rear,
Sucking on His thumb!

Around Him sat the finest cloth,
All dyed a spotless white,
And needles scattered all about,
But something wasn't right.

The lovely girl's pride vanished,
As she glided to his side,
The Dark Lord, He was crying,
As He looked up at his bride.

He began to try to speak to her,
And when He parted lips,
Blood slipped down His pointed chin
In three heart-wrenching drips.

The Dark Lord, He'd been sewing
With all his mien and might,
To make the dress just perfect,
Trying to make it right.

But the needle had gone and gotten stuck,
Tho' He pulled, and yanked, and tried,
And the needle pierced His thumb quite deep,
And the pain had made Him cry.

The lovely girl took pity,
And bandaged up his hand,
And began to finish up the gown,
The most brilliant in the land.

The Dark Lord, he did protest.
It was against the rules,
For her to help Him sew the dress,
That He'd been made a fool.

But the girl, she'd had a change of heart,
When she spied him sitting there,
and she no longer hated Him,
Had nothing left to fear.

For she had seen, in that moment,
When His blood had fallen out,
That it was red, just like hers,
And now she did not doubt,

That although her groom-to-be
Had a pretty nasty job,
He really was a sweetheart,
And a fairly decent sod.

So when the dress was ready,
The two of them were wed.
And above her heart, on her gown,
Were three tiny drops of red.

The Dark Lord and his wifey,
Were happy from there on,
And both were always sharply dressed,
In Green, and Blue, and Fawn.

But hold yet, gentle reader,
There's one moral left to find,
Before we leave the proud Dark Lord
And His blushing bride behind.

The seamstress is the reason,
When buried in the ground,
That everyone is always wrapped
In a lovely winding shroud.

When they meet the seamstress,
Whether Up or Down,
She makes for them a replica
Of her lovely wedding gown.

And thus are all radiant angels clad
In robes made with pure love,
And if you look quite closely,
You'll note the little drops of blood.

The living, when they see them,
Think they represent Holy Christ,
But we, down here, know full well
The reason they're so bright.

For the Devil is a person too,
Just like all those above.
And He's not such an awful guy...
After all, He fell in Love.