Silver slashes across the sky
ripping the darkness asunder
Now the rumbling of ten-pin balls
the rolling sound of thunder

Henry Hudson and his crew
drinking rum and beer
Playing ten-pins, smoking pipes
in the Catskills here

The half-moon was re-boarded soon
Sometime in the afternoon
The crew was hung (over)
But non-the-less still sung partly sober

They sang all the way to the bay
Oops said Henry this is not the way
But it was discovered that the ship
Henry's ship had not uncovered...

No northwest passage was divined
They turned about and anchored there
They heard a thundering of sorts
Atonal drums upon the air

From Half Moon to the trees, they took
Coaxed and guided by the sound
When reaching glen, they had a look
Campfires lit with gnomes around

those campfires burned and blazed
the gnomes looked completely crazed.
frenzied dancing into the long night,
it was a totally terrifying sight...

from the branches of trees our sight
told us we were in a life-or-death plight.
barrels of ale turned into barrels of blood

no...it must be a trick of the eyes
from the men I heard mighty sighs
they began to descend from the trees
all was suddenly quiet, stirring not of a breeze...

Until a piercing cry was heard
And Henry's first mate fell flat
The crew stared in horror
Then a domino effect

The gnomes were enraged
Tiny hands twisted in an evil grasp
Their blades glistened against the flame
While Henry gasped....

One by one they slaughtered the crew,
Laughing to see the agony upon their foe,
Their tiny blades leaving limbs askew,
And their antics putting on a horrifying show.

In their act a little while,
Stopping dead in their tracks at one,
Who did nothing but smile,
At the gnomes who thought it was done.

I live deep in the forest, completely alone,
I’m a wrinkled old hag, a stubble faced crone.
No man will have me, so I spend all my hours
studying nature and its magical powers.

You’d be surprised at what I can fashion
from a handful of roots and a lump of wet clay
(Laugh all you like, but this is my passion):
little figures of gnomes, which I bring into play

with my breath and some spit, and a song a bird taught me.
So, when I saw the ship land, and the woe that it brought me,
I sat myself down, in front of my hovel,
and made myself busy, with my knife and my shovel.

As those sailors caroused, I feared they might harm me,
So out of the mud I created an army,
And equipped them with weapons, and frenzied them, too,
by beating my drum to a savage tattoo...

Then the drumbeat became slow
its echoes bounced off canyon's walls
heard by just those down below
who replied with frightful squalls

At last, I cleared my blood red throat
which froze them all to easy prey
each one awaiting my fell smote
on this the eve of winter's day..
.

It seems that the days and hours that people
are available for chatroom are staggered and
not a good match for most everyone. How about
if everyone just shows up at the door, whenever
they have a few free minutes?