Out on the bog a mouldy old shack, A out front and a swamp in the back, The creature who lives there death, She'll curdle your blood with the of her breath, Wrapped up in and a tattered old hood, She walks with a cane of twisted black wood, A feared necromancer and of curses, She enjoys putting people in hearses. with a face that can drive men insane, A by joke and a sinister brain, Her feet can peel when they're exposed, Gangrene and infesting her toes, She spends all her creating disease, Conjuring larvae and to please, pupae she constantly breeds, On disinterred they suckle and feed A larval she did dismiss It crawled into a ditch Once underground it on, No one noticed it was gone. Down in the this maggot had fun, Eating the was it's job number one, It terrorized rodents and left in tatters, The flesh of the beasts it all the more fatter, Bones it did crunch and then munched The slimy invertebrate lunched, It's tubular mass through the did squirm, A limb-ripping, flesh-tearing, many-toothed palpitating skin in gelatinous mounds, It made it's way through grounds Seeking the by which it was sustained, The Swamp Hag had this maggot very well Finding a that was plentifully plugged, The corpse was by the glistening slug, Rot and it ingested with zeal, As long as it knew that it had a meal on the bloated dead Stiffs enveloped to head Vomiting into the crypts To gorge on all the parts dripped Tomb after it slowly creeped As we our food sources deplete It tunneled into our practice And listened as we moshed the Into the it escaped casing held a human shape A squalling lump all set to This town has not yet seen the