by Sycamore Smith

Wake up, Flanagan, the bartender's comin'
He says there's someone here
Who means to do us harm--
Sound the alarm, it's the man with the skeleton arms
Ten years ago on Hogsback Mountain
The flames was roaring like a lion in a fountain
The trees were burning, too many to count 'em
And trapped in the middle
With fire all around him, was a man...

Flanagan and I was out camping that day
We started our fire with turpentine and hay
The wind was howlin' so I guess we should have known
That the flames was gonna get blown across the land
Two days later when the fire died out
Flanagan and I went rootin' about
For to find a little dinner of roasted critter,
Blackened blackbird eggs and pine-cone fritters

That was how we happened on the badly burned man
He was yelpin' for help and so we each grabbed a hand
Thinking we'd be heroes if we dragged him back home,
We pulled, but pulled the flesh right offa the bone
Now of all the mad people, that guy was the maddest
He pulled a bone across his throat
And pointed right at us
Ten years on the lam from that skeletal man
He's sworn his revenge, we've heard his sinister plan:

He'll string us up by our hands and lift us over a vat
And dip us up to our elbows in boiling fat
It's like an eye for an eye, but ninety-nine times worse
He wants to do to us what we did to him,
Except in reverse...