Bravado

Many cemeteries in little towns in southern Germany had a large wooden cross in the middle. Bert told this story as true.

Three of them in the bar
One boasting

I am afraid of nothing
Especially your ghosts

I’m sorry boys it’s midnight
You’ll have to go I’m closed

Cold winter was nigh
As they stood in the street

Dark as pitch
No moon was out

Let’s walk, it’s cold
And they noisily set off

Afraid of nothing you say
We can see if it’s true

Stop at my tool shed
For a hammer and nail

To the gate of the cemetery
They ushered their hero

Go hammer this nail
Into the cross in the center

He gulped in his throat
But held up his bargain

And into the blackness
Walked the carpenter

The witnesses listened
The nailing began

One, two, three, four, five
Enough, then Aieeee!

All was silent
In the dark cemetery

Gripped in fear
They spoke not to each other

But waited for dawn
They weren’t as brave

Then they slowly crept in
To find their dead victim

Hung by the nail
Through his coat sleeve

Frozen on his face
Was the horror of fright?