Goat Gala

Goat Gala!

SARU POTTURI

Hooked nose, broken back The hag cuts up candy apples with a tack Gossip rag, and talking smack And her ribs splinter with a delightful crack. Holy ghosts, come out and play Make the most of this pagan day String up the rats, a hangman’s game We’ll raise a toast to our loose-tongued dame. Heavy footsteps, crunching glass Now here’s a doe-eyed lass With slits for lips, serrated mouth crass Splicing little promises, dead nails in her hands. Holy ghosts, come out and play Make the most of this pagan day A heap of fingers, gnarly gray We’ll feast on venison tonight, laughing away.

Crooked toes, wicked eyes The siren perfects her voice with a thick butter knife Mutated body, satanic cries Tongue darting out to pick at dead flies. Holy ghosts, come out and play Make the most of this pagan day Sea-scented chords—the black ballroom sways A red lady’s apple is our special guest today. We make merry, blood on ice I pet my steed, twice and thrice We make merry, hazy eyes We make merry, limbs on fire Merry, merry, slit wings diced Merry, merry, crosses fly Merry—merry—forked tongues fried— Merry—merry—the mob’s alive— (The mob’s alive) (The mob’s alive) Holy ghosts, come out and play Make the most of this pagan day The scent of mutton lingers in the air Dinner is served, and my throne is a plate.