Beast Of Codden Moor
fear rides the beast of codden moor
the men are hunting the beast of
codden moor
it run, s as fast as legs will carry
it, s breath steam, s on air so crisp
it, s heart beats a tempo of it, s own
faster faster faster faster faster
you beast of codden moor
but men ride horse, s fast as wind
to catch a beast on codden moor
that falls and tumbles through the snow
upon codden moor
it raises a head of strengh and beauty
a horn of bone lies within the head
of a beast of codden moor
death comes quick as spears stab down
as swords swish as they find virgin flesh
on this beast of codden moor
poem by Graham Russell
Added by Poetry Lover
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