|Take heed to the tale I'm about to tell,
About the worst of the spawns of hell;
A fiend who is held a prisoner of the night,
Never again allowed to walk in sunlight.
Prince of darkness with eyes that glow red,
Able to change form to things living or dead;
A bat or a wolf or just fog along the ground,
Moving through the night without making a sound.
In search of victims, preying on the weak.
The blood of the living, the meal it must seek;
Drawing back the lips, fangs sharp as a knife,
Piercing the throat and sucking out the life.
An existence of hunting and killing and death,
The removing of blood and the taking of breath;
The vilest creature to come down through the years,
Surviving the time by feeding off man's fears.
Hiding in cellars, using a coffin for its bed,
Just another of the costs of being the undead;
It has no reflection in mirrors, its shadow untrue,
Its powers are many and human defenses are so few.
The constant running from and living in dread,
When you fail to hide the body off which you just fed.
Powerless against faith, burned by water that's blessed,
The stake through the heart that can lay you to rest.
But some that are chosen, having not been fully bled,
Once they have died will return from the dead;
To become a soulless slave to an evil master,
Their hands turn to talons and skin alabaster.
An army to protect against its only foe,
For man is the one thing that can lay it low;
So it hurries away before the night is fully gone,
For it is man who rules with the coming of dawn.
So be you warned, that nothing is free,
The cost to the vampire is constant misery;
So bundle up tight, be sure and cover your flesh,
For the blood it seeks, is best when it's fresh!
© October 1993