Count Karloff

Count Karloff arose from his coffin
and left with a stretch and a yawn.
He said, ‘There’s a town to start off in.
I’ll feast on them all before dawn.”

He mingled with unruly masses
observing the rich and the poor.
He said, “Never mind what their class is;
there’s garlic nailed up on each door.”

The count felt a terrible yearning.
Anxiety stirred in his belly.
He said, “These damn mortals are learning
from series they’ve seen on the telly.”

But then he saw Lady Jane Purtsey.
He flashed her a terrible grin.
And Purtsey replied with a curtsy
declaring, “Why don’t you come in?”

She laid out a cake she’d been baking
that vampires aren’t likely to touch.
Thin slices were there for the taking
with currants and raisins and such.

The count thought that Jane looked delicious.
Her blood would taste awfully nice.
He opened his jaws and looked vicious
so Purtsey popped in half a slice.

He raised his dark eyebrows a fraction;
a moment of rare introspection.
He said, “Though I’m moved to distraction
the raisins are done to perfection”