The Demon Butler's Daughter
Under moon, half past winter o'clock
Through a door that few people have seen
Slips a slip of a girl with the eyes of a cat
Though they're palest pink, not green.
With the footsteps of angels she dances so free
With the mind of a devil she sings
Frets on frets as her bow glides along
On the violin over the strings.
In his bedroom the butler awakens to music
And he heeds quite intently as she
Maid of maid made by touch of a demon's warm skin
Plays the strings just as lovely as he.
Stepping out to the most private lawn
With his own violin by his side
Fingers finger the strings as the butler soon sings
Alongside his daughter with pride.
Waking ere morning, the master does groan
With a sigh of bemusement. "Oh what should I do?
Yowl on yowl they play! You would think they were cats!
Should I send them to bed? Or just throw a shoe!"