Dare ye enter the darkened manor,

Beyond the moor, beneath the oak?

Dare ye enter, where a ghostly cantor

Appears and demands that truth be spoke!


Within these walls, a young lord once took

A young girl’s life and innocence,

And ever since, a lonely spirit shook,

Filled with strife, seeking recompense,


Yes, I dare to enter the darkened manor,

To speak of justice for unsettled scores,

Lonely spirits should no more banter,

Through these halls, beyond the moor,


Be at peace, lonely spirit,

Be still, for now I tell,

The young lord’s soul, don’t fear it,

He now doth dwell in Hell.




Bob shot John Jones

With no remorse,

To stop his moans,

Bob shot again, of course.


Jones was the town bully,

And gave many a pummlin,’

He was mean and surly,

Some say Jones had it comin,’


You should never pick a fight

With one tougher than you,

But Jones lacked foresight,

And now he’s cold and blue,


In a shallow grave, laced with lime,

Too bad he didn’t realize,

That if there was a next time,

Never bully somebody your own size.


Or better yet, surely,

To live old and gray,

Don’t be a bully,

That’s all I’ve got to say.




If you can pull up a chair and sit a spell,

I’ll tell you a long, gruesome tale,

It’s about the Ruby brothers, so listen well,

Them Rubys were always bound for Hell,


It’s also a story about cold revenge,

And evil and hate, and a murdering binge,

It started with John Deal, who was huntin’ in the woods,

Deal wandered around, more than he should,


He came upon the Rubys’ liquor still,

For this transgression, they aimed to kill,

The still was in the swamp inside a rustic cabana,

Way down yonder in southeast Louisiana,


The Rubys shot poor Deal in the back,

And tossed him inside the little shack,

Later, they drove him in a driving rain,

On backroads near Lake Ponchartrain,


Yes, they shot Deal and gave him a stomp,

Then, the evil cajuns dumped him in the swamp,

Coldly, callously, without a “see ya later,”

They figured he’d soon be ate by a gator,


But Deal wasn’t dead and made a deal with the gators,

“I’ll bring you two boys filled with fatback and taters!”

Poor Deal played the only hand he was dealt,

And the gators let him go, where he had knelt,


Deal kept his word, sure ‘nuff,

He got a gun and ropes and other stuff,

And got the jump on the Ruby men,

He tied ‘em up, like he had been,


He drove ‘em on the back roads like he had lain,

Late at night, near Lake Ponchartrain,

Then, he marched the boys into the cold swamp,

And hit each brother with a mighty whomp,


Then, he stood there and watched until

All the gators had eaten their fill!

So, that’s the story, as I was told,

About revenge, a dish which is best served cold.