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Sweet Abby was walking alone
Her brother and sister, gone
She followed the wind and sidewalk ahead
An escort to home, she had none
She whistled as she walked along
Her song as pitch as black
Her batty hat upon her head
Her bow upon her back
The little girl's face was grim as could be
As she walked along the road
Sparkling eyes stared into yours
And so the story's told
If ever you're walking down
A street and you're alone
Don't listen to the little girl
Who wants to follow you home
 Phantom Mutt · Thu Nov 26, 2009 @ 02:58am · 0 Comments |
