The Beast of Bodmin Moor

The experts will tell you I just don’t exist

But amongst the locals, sightings persist.

 

A cunning feline, a non-native cat

I live on my wits and I’m primed to attack.

 

Across the wind swept moor do I prowl

You may sense my presence, or hear me growl

 

I lie down low ‘mid the black sucking bog

And travel with stealth under cover of fog.

 

I see you, but you don’t see me

And I’ll never get caught, ’cause I was born to run free.

 

How did I get here? No one doth know

And if you set out to find me, I will not show.

 

By day I rest in plantation of pine

Or sleep in my lair down a long forgot’ mine.

 

At night I’ll stalk and I’ll hunt and I’ll kill

Not ’cause I’m hungry; just for the thrill.

 

The farmer he finds, at break of the dawn

Eviscerated sheep with throats pierced and torn.

 

I watch from atop a lone granite tor

And lick the fresh blood from my slavering maw.

 

I will not be caged, I will not be tamed

You’ll never have vengeance for the livestock I’ve maimed

 

Don’t deny the reports of the lambs that I steal

Look at my paw prints….and know that I’m real!

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