Frozen forever in stone for their sins,
With contorted features with teeth and with wings,
Oversized faces with an upturned nose,
Unable to run free, they ferociously pose.
From way up high they sit and they stare,
As you make your way through Albert Square,
They mock you below, pulling faces in jest,
A terrifying creature, a city-scape pest.
They hang off the town hall and cling to its spire,
There’s rumours that once they used to breathe fire,
Like dragons, they’re evil; they’re bad to the bone,
So thank Albert himself that they’re cast out of stone.
They’re there all night and they’re there all day,
But few people notice as they go on their way,
Clinging to fountains, they spit torrents of water,
If you’ve never noticed them, then really you ought to.
Because watch them close as you pass them daily,
Their skin may be coated in stone and not scaly,
But notice their stance and their place on the square,
Cause the gargoyles move, I’ve noticed, I swear.
For five minutes only at just gone three,
When the moon casts its shadow against the square’s tallest tree,
When the city is tucked up in bed with its wife,
The moonlight beckons the gargoyles to life.
As that ray of moonlight shines down on the fountain,
The gargoyles stop spitting the water that they’re spouting,
And as they spread their tiny wings, the stone cracks off their scales,
And life filters through the gargoyles from their snout right to their tails.
They run and they jump and they fight with each other,
Breathing fire, not water, you’d have to take cover,
If passing through at this time beware,
For it’s no longer Albert’s but the Gargoyles’ Square.
They’ll chase you down in twos and in threes,
Then nibble your fingers and bite at your knees,
With a well known palate for late night revellers,
Those making the most noise, the lock-in regulars.
Walk through in silence; they’re alerted by sound,
If singing and shouting, they’ll soon track you down,
Their eyes don’t work well so creep through the city,
If you’re bellowing loud, they’ll show you no pity.
Many a drunkard has frozen with fear,
As the gargoyles stalk them, it must be the beer,
Don’t walk through singing and not on your own,
The gargoyles are known to shred skin to the bone.
Run through next time don’t give them the chance.
To eat whatever you hide in your pants,
For nothing is wasted or left on the street,
They devour it all from your head to your feet.
If the gargoyles clock you, you’ve no chance in hell,
They’ll jump from the walls; you’re under their spell,
Running is pointless; you won’t make it home,
They’ll singe you with fire then crunch through your bone.
You might see its eyes move; you might see it blink,
But run for your life, there’s more than you think,
They come from all angles, they fly and they swoop,
They attack on the floor and the air as they loop.
Only one thing will help to stave off your fright,
As they move in the shadows and hate the moonlight,
If another ray hits them, it forces them home,
As their scales are slowly turned back to stone.
They race to their places and stand statuette,
Regardless of who or what they’ve just ate,
So next time you’re passing, see if it flinches,
Have the gargoyles moved just a matter of inches?
Copyright©2011 by Phil Martin
All rights reserved.