An old man lived in Demonshore
among the forest trees.
He spent his days a-choppin’ wood
to warm the townsmen’s families.
Some nights the local teens would come
to tease and taunt with tricks.
They’d tap his door and run away;
he’d chased them all with sticks.
His fury grew as time went by.
He’d teach them all to stop.
He’d get them with his cold axe blade,
onto their heads he’d drop.
The axeman sought out his revenge
on every teen in town.
With axe of steel tight in his hand,
on each it did come down.
The town set out to hang him high
dressed in their blackish hoods,
but none could find him or his axe
as they searched his creepy woods.
When all the teens were put to rest
and families - they grieved no more,
the axeman was not seen again
in the streets of Demonshore.
But in the town just down the road,
more teens were found near the pines.
Their bloody bodies piled so high -
all were cut from skulls to spines.
The axeman still does roam the earth;
from town to town he goes.
And if you’re on the streets at night,
beware, beware! His hatred grows.
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