St. Toad Pays a Call
Dedicated to Ron Shiflet, Pickman of Poetry
Once upon an ancient night
St. Toad gazed upon the stars come right.
Up from dark N'kai to see the world
Dread St. Toad his tongue unfurled.
To taste the fresh surface air
After centuries snoozing in his subterranean lair.
Once upon an ancient road
Set off with a slow gait our St. Toad.
Off to see the waves he went
Tired of solid firmament.
Away he went merry as can be
To see Old Man Cthulhu and the sea.
Once upon an ancient bed
Did St. Toad rest his head.
Tired from his lengthly hike
Through Arkham and past the Aylesbury Pike.
Beyond Falcon Point and the muddy marsh
To rotting Innsmouth, dull, dreary and harsh.
Once upon this ancient town
Old St. Toad settle down.
To rest his aching otherworldy feet
From the horrid cobbled street
Of this decaying, fishy place
The Deep Ones always were a shoddy race.
Once upon the ancient sea unsteady
Bloated St. Toad made ready.
To call upon Great Cthulhu in his lair
Slimy, sunken R'lyeh.
Getting closer by the hour
To Cthulhu's barnacl'd tower.
Once upon an ancient corpse-city
St. Toad stalked with temper gritty.
To have journeyed all this way
Walking far over many a day.
All he could do was curse and shout
The Great Old Bastard had gone out!
Once more upon his ancient seat
St. Toad again did sooth his feet.
He settled down to sleep aeons long
As the stars again went all wrong.
Next time Cthulhu calls, he thought, I won't go round
That fishy sod will have to come down, underground.
©1997 Peter A. Worthy
First Appearance: Mythos Online #5
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