In the darkness is when he's on a hunt,
Careful not to sneeze, snap a twig or grunt,
His body is cold blooded like ice,
His eyes blink, once, then twice,
Then once again, not making a sound.
Ears flickering about, around and around,
He stalked closer and closer, sensing the faerie nearby,
He scans the around with a cold, yet very keen eye..
One more step, then suddenly, he hears a noise,
He leaps for it, gracefully, gliding with poise.
Got it! He exclaims loudly to himself with glee,
In his net, had not only caught one, but...three.
All three faeries just sat there, looking very stunned,
When all the evil Lupe, was thinking about, was his fund!
I'll make loads of money! I'll make loads out of this,
Oh what joy, oh what bliss!
It's a pity he was too busy exclaiming for joy to see,
The three pretty little faeries, already beginning to flee,
When he found out, they were too far to reach,
They'd gone back to their families and told the tale to each,
And if you still listen as the wind blows near you so,
You'll hear the tale, of Balthazar, all those years ago.