Banshee’s Foe

In my early years I heard a tale

Of woe and death and ache;

The high pitched screams

That made our houses quake.

All down the streets,

Parents awake

Grab their ears

And in silence shake;

Praying to old gods

And new for a break.

For piercing shrieks

These beasts would make,

Tearing through stone

Through roads and lake,

Till none knew escape

Though all ran for their sake.

The recorder, a foul curse

Whose song could slay a drake,

Played by that awful devil,

A 5-year-old named Jake.