You've successfully subscribed to obscura scripturae
Great! Next, complete checkout for full access to obscura scripturae
Welcome back! You've successfully signed in.
Success! Your account is fully activated, you now have access to all content.
in an abbey by the sea

in an abbey by the sea

Jesse Patrick Bohanan

little by little
they crept from their caves
little by little
they dug their own graves

inch and by inch
they’d scratch with their claws
inch and by inch
they’d maim with their maws

as reas’nable mortals’re apt to do
these creatures grew and grew and grew

with hunger insatiable
lust unabated
they took little time
yes naught had they waited

fortunes were made
and fortunes were lost
here in this fortress
built by the cross

as they ready another
ripe soul for the slaughter
soon they’ll be hanging
your son or your daughter

what are these foul beasts
with ravenous jaw
that rip limbs asunder
as if they were straw

i’ll tell you dear sir
if you’ll list’n quite near
but the last sound you’ll make
is a muffled scream clear

one night in the darkness there grew a great light
but with it the broken boughs burned blinding white

with pitchfork in hand
we’ll raise the great pyre
and sacrifice more
to the strength of our ire

this last thing done
we’ll give up our ghosts
and return to the graves
while our guest rightly roasts

the spit it will turn as sun shines its beams down
and no more will come screams from Chesterfield Down