Hans Liebaum raised a wolf cub, sweet and tame
And most intelligent. It almost spoke
As humans did, Hans swore (he had no shame
About tale-telling). One dark night, a joke
Occurred to him. He taught his lupine friend
Its part, o'er months, until a village fair
Nearby their woodland home came round again.
That night a full moon shone. Without a care
Hans danced a merry jig beside the fire,
Called out "what's that?" and when the people turned
Swapped in his wolf, dressed in his clothes. The shire,
Astounded by this magic, nearly burned
The square. The legend born on that wild night
Lives on in werewolf tales. Don't let them bite!
Fourteen rhyming lines of pure pulp every day in sonnet form. A different genre every day of the week! All sonnets by Kate Sherrod. Look for the first volume, coming to print in 2016!
Friday, May 20, 2016
Throwback Thursday: The Impact of a Prank
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