Ssshick, ssshick, ssshick, ssshick
The soft repetitive noise came from the old cabin
Most of the trees still standing nearby
Looking as dead as the cabin itself
With it's torn moldy curtains and broken windows
Ssshick, ssshick, ssshick, ssshick
The noise has been going on for almost an hour
All other sound in the woods has stopped
As if all the creatures and even the wind
Has stopped to listen
To ponder what it might mean
The sound stops
And it starts raining lightly at the same moment
Various rustling sounds fill the air
As if all the waiting listening animals
Suddenly remembered what it was they had been doing
The front door to the dirty old cabin opens
With a creak
And the sound of booted steps
Coming out of the dimness within
A figure appears
There is no way to tell if it's a man or a woman
So covered with hair and odd bits of clothing as it is
Coming out into the light that streams down in columns
Lightly illuminating areas through the light misty rain
The figure comes more into focus
In it's right hand is a large pair of scissors
In it's left is a basket
A basket full of hair
Hair of all different colors and textures
With a purpose the figure strides to the edge of the clearing
Finding a lightly worn path that leads to the main road to town
Where many men should now be frightened
If they but knew what was coming their way
For the Beardslayer cometh
And will have it's pound of hair
Ere it ever peacefully retires
Back to it's dusty cabin lair
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