Night Terrors
Whippoorwill calls in the swamp at night,
Lonely soul, flies it's fluttering flight.
Panther prowls with silent, slinking tread.
'Hit screams lak a woman, ' grandma said.
The swamp is deep, black and cold.
Cottonmouth grows big, mean, and old.
The moss grows thick, like hair on a hog.
It hides the critters that hide in the bog.
'Don't ye go 'air, boy, ' my grandma said,
'Now listen to me, child, or end up dead.'
'If ye be seen in 'at ol' Gator's eye,
Ye mark muh words, ye'll shorely die.'
Willie Walker
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/night-terrors-10/
