A humble abode sits outside the little town,
Leaky roof and dirty floor; just a little run down.
The door is not open during the day,
But a light appears at night they say.
During the winter smoke rises from the chimney.
A light shines through the cracks in the wall so dimly.
A “monster man” lives inside, the town’s people believe,
But it is only the outside that they perceive.

Though large in stature and somewhat smart,
This “monster man” has quite a large heart.
He sits and reads in his rocking chair
As he twirls the tips of his long white hair.
He works at night digging holes,
Giving a resting place for departing souls.
His aging body has still not given out
So he has no reason to give a pout.

He is happy with a shovel in hand.
Down in a ditch removing sand.
The light of his lantern is all he needs
For the work and life style that he leads.
What he plants in his garden should suffice
Because he does not need some exotic spice.
In his house are shelves of books of all kinds
On his roads are” Do not enter” signs.

One time he was working on a dark, stormy night.
He was making a sleeping place for Mr. McKnight.
The monster man deprived himself his sleep,
Until he had dug the ditch six feet deep,
But he did not know that this hole would be his last.
Because the work he did, his strength surpassed.
He fell to his knees and he clenched his chest.
He laid in his bed and finally got rest.