To your father’s home I went,
sent!, no I went of my own accord,
to ask him for your hand.
Band! Yes! Marriage.
I knocked upon the door,
the floor! No, it was the door.
I heard it slowly open
and saw your father standing there.
I almost had a stroke, croak? Yes!
I almost died to see his skin
so translucent I could see his
teeth like little saws,paws?
No, he had regular hands, and in his
mouth I could see the remains
of a crow, grow? No, it couldn’t it was dead.
And where his eyes should be were gouged out holes.
Moles! No, his skin was clear, and
from it dripped, I don’t know what,
but it was bad! Sad? No,
he just looked angry.
I blurted out, stout?, not me,
but, God, he was! That I was there to
ask him for his daughter’s hand,
band! Yes! Marriage. He bent
back from his waist and laughed so hard
he spewed crow bones upon my face. Pace? I had none,
for I was standing still.
He bellowed for me to wait,
fate? I did not know what would come,
but wait I did. And from inside I heard
a scream, and her father filled the door,
sore? I would be, but not quite yet.
He leaned his hulk
bulk?, God, yes! Through the door,
and in my palm he placed her hand
that he had just severed from her arm!
Harm? Harm! Of course!,
any fool could see the harm!
I screamed, he laughed, he bellowed,
and through the door with tremendous speed,
bleed? Yes! She was still bleeding, came my love,
glove? No, but she would only need one,
and grabbed my arm with her one good hand,
and off we sped!
Dead? No!, but we were exhausted: me from terror,
her from lack of blood.

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