by Sycamore Smith

I cooked up some eels in eel broth
And I threw in some honey from the Sycamore Bees
Poured it all into a horse trough
And I mixed in some sap from the Figmoron Tree

I boiled it from morning till noon
A thick cloud of smoke hung in the air
A nearby horse breathed in the fumes
And it turned him to glue, right then and there

As it cooled, I admired my brew
It was milky and murky and nicely charred
I dropped in a ladle, snapped it in two--
My batch of hooch was a little too hard
Honey Creeper, Honey Creeper
Leaving a mess for the Reaper to clean
Honey Creeper, Honey Creeper
Oozing away from the grim murder scene
'Twas then that an angel appeared
And told me, "Don't do it, don't think it"
And then it turned into a demon who sneered
And said "No, I'm just kidding--I want you to drink it"

So I chipped with a hammer and chisel
And I chopped it like mad with a pick
But I couldn't even shoot off a chunk with my pistol
So I put my face in the trough and licked

I swallowed it down and it knocked me flat--
I mean I was just half an inch tall
I was laid out like a welcome mat
With my insides and outsides completely dissolved
Now that my skeleton's collapsed
I can go any place that I please
I can squeeze through the narrowest of gaps
I could slide under a puddle of grease

Now I don't mean to make you feel queasy
And I don't want to cause you to retch
But I find that hunting you humans is easy--
You're all so clumsy, you're simple to catch

Oh, if I find you asleep with your lover
I think that it's just fair to warn you
That I will be joining you under the covers
To wrap you both up, so I can absorb you...