The woods gave way to pasture-land,
A village came in sight
Beside the graveyard, his horse stopped
In need of a respite.
The tinker unhitched his tired horse
And set it free to graze.
Then stepped within the churchyard gate
Upon a grave he lays.
The ground a soft and mossy bed
But still no sleep would come—
As midnight chimed across the vale
The ground began to thrum.
Startled, he jumps behind a tomb
As the grave began to open.
A shrouded corpse and coffin lid
Emerged in languid motion.
The vampire dragged its coffin lid
Up to the church’s door,
Leaned it against the vestry wall
Then fled in search of gore.
The tinker was a daring man
He took the coffin lid
Back to his cart with waiting tools
And sat upon the skid.
Hours dragged by as he kept watch
Until the ghoul arrived.
Reaching the vestry, it was shocked
Its coffin lid deprived.
With eyes sewn shut, it breathed in deep
The lid’s scent for to catch—
As it approached, the tinker hoped
A plan could still be hatch’d.
The fiend’s white shroud was stain-ed red
Its voice like wintry wind
“Return to me my coffin lid
Or like a rat be skinned!”
“And my hatchet, how about that?”
The tinker’s bold reply.
“I’ll chop you and your coffin lid
If you should even try!”
“Do give it back to me, good man!”
The undead spirit begged.
“Tell me the deeds you’ve done tonight
And where it was you legged.”
“Into the village square I went
And fed upon two boys.
You’ll find them dead upon the floor
Surrounded by their toys.”
“What must be done to bring them back
And give them back their life?”
“Take the left skirt of this white shroud
And cut it with your knife.
If you can find the lifeless boys
Before the break of dawn
Fill up a pot with burning coals
Then toss the shroud upon.
Put the pot within their room
And quickly bolt the door.
The smoke will bring their spirits back
And their lives restore.”
The tinker knew that time was short
So quickly cut the skirt
The corpse took up its coffin lid
And returned beneath the dirt.
During the night, the tinker had
Within the coffin’s lid
His mother’s silver crucifix
Beneath the lining slid.
The amulet kept the Vampire
From closing the lid tight
A corner rose out from the dirt
To mark the ghoul’s gravesite.
The tinker rushed into the town
And heard a mother’s wail
He swiftly gathered burning coals
And dumped them in a pail.
He set it down upon the floor
Between the lifeless lads
The shroud gave off a cloud of smoke
As thin as sterile pads.
He closed the door, smoke filled the room
Their Father grabbed his throat:
“What in hell are you doing here?”
He shouted at his coat.
Coughing was heard from the boys’ room—
The father dropped the man
Throwing aside the bedroom’s door
To reborn sons he ran.
The tinker did not gain reward
Or even words of praise.
Instead was tightly bound with rope
To meet the sheriff’s gaze.
For who beside the boys’ killer
Would know how to revive’m?
The tinker told his dark night’s tale
To the fiend he’d drive’em.
The town went out by dawn’s red light
And found the disturbed grave
The coffin lid’s corner marking
The home of Death’s dark knave.
The dug up the fiend’s bloodied corpse
And drove an aspen stake
Through the ancient, merciless heart
Of Eden’s evil snake.
The tinker was a hero named
And welcomed with a feast.
All the town bought from his cart
And thus his wealth increased