You must beware the Grassman, my son,
His tongue is black
His tongue is black
His leaves are strong
And he crawls through the garden all night long.
A perfect secret for so many years,
Guarding his dark tale from innocent’s ears
He slithers from his hiding place,
The child’s worst fear, his mother’s disgrace.
Beware the Grassman, my boy,
His roots are quick
And his thorns are filed
All the better to catch an unwary child.
His eyes shine with ethereal light,
Dark knowledge and second sight.
But gaze too long and harden within,
He will take you from your kith and kin.
You see, the Grassman never cares,
For a little boy’s affairs,
So see you’re never picked
For his grim and grassy tricks;
Linger now and be out-run,
You must beware the Grassman, my son.
By Sam Morrissey
