The Tragic Tale of Billy the Milksop

By Richard Lynch

Fear, you know, is, in one regard,
Some fun and fancy, good times through!
But still on someone else’s card,
It makes them just a little blue.

Elders know fear can be fun,
Yet children fear the dark nonstop.
For Billy, night had just begun,
His grandpa deemed him a milksop.

“My dear young boy,” his grandpa said,
“You know the night is not to fear!
In the closet, under the bed,
I will allow no monster near!”

Then Billy said, “But grandpa, can
A monster sneak past through your sight?”
His grandpa said, “I’ve got a plan,
I won’t let them without a fight!”

Then Billy said, “Monsters are smart,
They may find ways to get past you.”
His grandpa said, “We will not part!
But smart monsters? That part is true!”

“What do you mean?” Young Billy said,
His grandpa answered, “I implore
You take your form from out that bed,
And look inside your closet door!”

Then Billy said, “But I am scared!
Can you tell me what lies beyond?”
“That’s nonsense, child!” Grandpa declared,
“You see, for you, I am quite fond!”

Before the threshold, Billy stood,
He quickly turned the bronze doorknob.
His grandpa lay not as he should,
For dead he was with most macabre.

When Billy turned, his blood ran cold,
A monster loomed before him now.
It said, “Dear child, you were told
That we are smart; I do avow!”

The monster snatched the young boy’s arm,
And to the darkness drug his friend.
A muted scream of most alarm
Met with poor Billy’s tasty end.