Damned by daylight, in shadow I lurk,
Hungry to do my cursed work,
Crouched beyond mere mortal sight,
Couched in fear, I hunt by night,
Once I was a man like you,
Who breathed and lived and loved and grew,
Now a gnarled and twisted twig,
With yellowed claws, through dirt I dig,
To breath the grave’s cold, bitter air,
Beyond my dank and fetid lair,
Through cobbled streets my footsteps tap,
‘Cross smoking rooftops, rustle, flap,
To swoop, black velvet hammer blow,
To strike, to bite, to make blood flow,
‘Til satisfied by my dark deeds,
I contemplate my wicked needs,
Then, with swirl of night, I swoop away,
To flee encroaching burning day,
Back to the shroud as my kind must,
Embrace the tomb’s eternal dust,
Though rise again I will, beware,
And in your night-time dues take care,
Be vigilant and not remiss,
Else you might taste the vampire’s kiss.

© Paul Ferry 2004