Tales of Small Sanctuary- From the Great Cold Mountain

From the Great Cold Mountain

Oh, the Great Cold Mountain

I am standing at its base

In its unforgiving shadow

A small town does hide its face

For in time immemorial

Something terrible and old

Descended from that evil rock

And whispered in the cold

Did make a foolish Devil’s Deal

With an evil force of night

Five Gentleman, who wished to steal

A land, a hope, a right

That force, it cackled on the wind

And spat curses in the snow;

Still whispers little, evil things

As the townsfolk come and go

It had in its tattered claws

Gripped the hearts of men and beasts

And fears naught the blade or pistol shot–

Just the sunrise in the east

The land was considered spoiled

And home to naught but snakes

But five foolhardy gentleman

Would heed not the curse in place

The Gentleman were named as follows:

Fontaine, McClane, and Hart

Along with Jones and Smith

Sought to set themselves apart

They staked their claims, heeded warnings not

Dug cellars and cleared snow

But before they laid a single brick

To a high place they did go

They climbed the Great Cold Mountain

And O’er many-a precipice

And fought with cold and danger

And with many a near miss!

Until they came upon an ancient cave

Warm, despite the snow

And bargained with a horned thing

Perched on evil shapes of stone

Winged black with Jam-red eyes

A smile of toothy charm,

“Come sit my friends, let’s make a deal–

I mean you all no harm!”

For the beast, it wanted worship

Of woman, man, and babe

And wanted a people of its own

Whose souls it surely craved

“Build to me a shrine down deep

Beneath your growing town

I want only for some company–

And joyous, praying sounds!

“Take with you this statuette–

And mind it with great care:

For with it I go, it goes with me,

Where ’tis, I am there.”

So the men descended from that place

With the evil statue down

To the lands that would one day

Be their mountain town

They built for it (that evil thing)

A grand, resplendent shrine

That those who dug and built that town

Would pledge their souls for all of time

And at start all things were going well

With crops and cattle plenty

Buildings stood quick, folks settled in

Ne’er a house was empty

The honey flowed and trade was good

The town waxed rich with gold

And as time wore on, the founders forgot

To whom they pledged their souls

Evil brooded in its temple-shrine

Empty deep within the ground

And now had neither company

Nor those sweetest praying sounds

“I think its time these gentleman

Were reminded of our deal

For now I sit alone- the fools!

I will surely make them squeal.

Now the creature it did fear the sun

So it sneaked out in dead of night

And struck a chord in Fontaine’s heart

To accept what’s wrong for right

Fontaine awoke in a cold sweat

With evil in his eyes

His mind askew, his heart turned black–

He would kill whom he despised!

He took an ax and went to town

Attacking here and there

In the carnage he was put down

By the courageous Sergeant Blair

“A senseless crime!” the papers cried

“What did get into him?

“For Frank Fontaine was once so kind

“And shewed all wrong and sin.”

The gentleman (now numbered four)

Were scared at this event

But they remembered not the oath the made

Nor to whom their souls were pledged

Sean McClane was a portly man

Fat with appetites

The evil came to him with curse

On one dark foreboding night

He was turned into a feral pig

And set loose to run away

He ate filth and grime and sticks and leaves

And in filth and grime he lay

Until he was caught and fattened up

And taken off to town

Where he was butchered, cooked and served

To the poor whose luck was down

Oh, what to say of the unfortunates

That ate the pig McClane

Except that they now think they are as pigs–

They squeal and root, deranged.

The gentleman (now numbered three)

Were scared of this event

But they remembered not the oath they made

Nor to whom their souls were pledged

Tom Smith was a petty, greedy man

All avarice and spite

In madness he ate up his wealth

Late one snowy night

The terrible tale was told so clear

His eyes and belly bulged

He was found stone dead in his vault–

He had eaten all his gold

The gentleman (now numbered two)

Were scared of this event

Though they remembered not the oath they made

Nor to whom their souls were pledged

Not much can be said of Jerry Jones

He was a quiet man

And into the woods he disappeared

…Just vanished from the land

The townsfolk searched both low and high

In the quiet, eerie wood

And they found naught but tattered clothes

As if he melted where he stood

The gentleman (now numbered one)

Was scared of this event

And finally, he remembered true

To whom his soul was pledged

Lou Hart, he was the final man

Determined he was to live

He traveled deeply underground

An apology he’d give!

He approached the enshrined statuette

With claws and Jam-red eyes

And said, “I shall not forget

“What to thee I owe of mine!”

“Hart, my man,” the creature spoke

In tones as sweet as cream

“There’s a reason, sir, why you are last–

A purpose to your being.

“For mortals are wont to forget

“Promises made on high

“When the towns they own wax mightily,”

He ended weary with a sigh.

“So I shall give you a gift,

“All my power to give–

“I shall take your shaky mortal frame

“And live within your skin!”

Hart emerged next morning

Dressed up up all in black

He smiled wide, greeted all

“I’m back my friends, I’m back!”

‘Twas something different ’bout this man

Whose eyes gleamed cold and cruel

He was cloaked in a dark strangeness

Though he walked so jovial

The town still stands, though in ruins now

With an air of fear and doubt

For it’s here madness is dispensed

From Mayor Hart, so stout

Insanity, it seems to me

Is contagious at the least

The Townsfolk live in misery–

Bad luck, a prowling beast

I have not time to tell all tales

Of this mountain town

Save none can leave, and all must stay

And madness lies within the ground

For Hart still reigns with grin and curse

He hasn’t seemed to age–

His smile seems to be all teeth

His eyes, a jam-red shade

The problem as I see it now

Is that these men, with foolish pride

Tried to barter with their brains and souls

And let madness deep inside

Oh, let this be a lesson

Please do heed these words

For naught can replace the heart and soul

Not wisdom, wealth, or words.

O, the Great Cold Mountain

I am standing on its peak

And gazing ‘pon a small mountain town

In shadow, cold, and weak.

 

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