by A.G. Porter
In the deep dark woods, late at night, Where things do crawl and things do bite,
There you'll see her, as she stares ahead, Locks of auburn, fiery red.
Dress of white and skin of ash, Her mouth is open, a deep red gash.
Don't stop to look, walk on by. Please don't try to catch her eye.
For if you do, be prepared to stay, forever she'll keep you in her cold embrace.