There was once a crooked man.
He walked a crooked mile.
He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked style.
He got a crooked cat, who caught a crooked mouse. And they all lived together, in a crooked little house.
He met a crooked woman, and they found a crooked preach.
They had a crooked marriage, upon a crooked beach.
They had some crooked children, and they lived a crooked life, the crooked man, the cat, the mouse, the children and the wife.
They were happy for a number of crookedly long years and lived a life of crooked happiness, with no worries, no fears.
Until one day the crooked wife upset the crooked man. He yelled a crooked yell, he hit her, and he ran.
The crooked man came again, at the stroke of twelve, and that's when their crooked life, became a living hell.
There was a crooked man. He walked a crooked mile. and when he killed his wife and kids, he smiled a crooked smile.
Then he had a crooked thought.
Why was crookedness his lot? Why must he be crooked instead of being not?
So the crooked man would cry, and he couldn't fathom why.
He was sad all the time and he sighed.
Everything was worthless, so he found a rope and tied it to the sky.
Upon a chair he stood, his eyes blank and dead, without another thought he went and hung his head.
Now the story's not yet over, for this tale is myth-ed and old.
Go hide under the cover, there's something not yet told.
There was once a crooked man, who had a crooked smile, and if you lived his life, he'll send you through a trial.
He lives for your torment, makes it full of strife.
And he won't be content, until you take your life.