No Don't Go......

Don't Go Down To The Bayou
By La Belle Rouge

Twas a handsome, black eyed stranger
I met at the annual All Hallows Ball.
A man of such dark magnetism
I feared that in love I would fall.
He spoke with a foreign accent
and carried a silver handle cane.
Though thrice I shared a dance with him
he never offered to give me his name.
His hands were smooth and cool to touch
A walk in the garden ‘neath harvest moon
his eyes were afire with primal lust
I was led away from the path so soon.


Creatures of the bayou called out to me
as we drifted in that direction.
He refused to listen to my pitiful plea
or to make a course correction.
The mists they rose like vapors from hell
or the ancient breath of dragons awakened.
All around us a damp and earthy smell
as his touch my reserve had shaken.
“Do not fear,” he whispered in my ear
as he tenderly nuzzled my neck.
His kisses burned my satin skin
and made my racing thoughts a wreck.


A sudden pick like twin needles
then all was black and quiet as a grave.
I rose again with the next night’s moon
His helpless victim, his willing slave.
Who knows what may wait in shadow
with a thirst only quenched by blood
evil eyes that with green fire glow
none to save you, not even from above.
So don’t go down to the bayou
when the carrot moon is hanging low.
No stay away from the bayou
if this undead hell you would not know


10/16/2007 La Belle Rouge

Music "Macabre"