Oh, the Unknown, how it stretches far and wide
Chilling to the bone without a proper guide.
Two brothers, lost, without hopes or prayers
As they travel through darkened treelines and soft, muddy layers.
They meet friendly friends during their long, arduous hike
And the worst of ne'er-do-wells and villains quite alike.
All of this and more— a real tale of thrall
As Wirt and Greg seem to trip right Over the Garden Wall.
A misty and gray thing, the feeling of this place;
Wirt can feel it tug— the wrongness in this space.
It's dark and dank and feels sort-of sideways
Shades of black and gray that twist into a maze.
Their feet sink deep into the ground as they trip about
Trying to pick their way along what seems the safest route.
Wirt is young and bold for sure, and they'll climb their way right out
But still, their journey through the Great Unknown is filled with heavy doubt.
First, they meet a bird and then a man in the wood
And are carefully warned of a Beast that will and likely should
Take them for their all their worth if they manage to meet
And cross paths together deep within this forest street
Of paths that drip with the deep Unknown
Filled with who-its and whatnots that are neatly grown
Within the dark shadow of that silly in-between
As if they sit beyond the veil of a bright and worldy screen.
Greg is optimistic; Cheerful despite the grim outlook.
Wirt, however, is pragmatic as the tales forsook
By those in this forest with no future or thought
Left to drown in shallow waters, as they slowly rot
Because above all, there's that which is worse
Then that which is better, futures that slowly nurse;
And of course, there's the Beast that dwells heavy in hearts
A grisly gothic tale that's truly the worst of delightful arts.
Animals that are students and a human that's a teacher
Potatoes and sickly-sweet molasses, quite the random feature
And then a dusty tavern that speaks of evil plots:
The Beast and trees and an age-old lantern, all of them sinful lots.
Greg foams at the mouth with the promise of adventure
Whilst Wirt holds him back to keep from risky ventures
As they roam about on sore and aching feet
Wirt does think that Death might come to them for a proper greet.
Deeper yet they go because it's forward— not back
And Wirt wonders more and more if it's courage that he lacks
For Greg seems free and clear of fear with everyone they meet
A warm and toothy grin, paired with jokes that merrily greet
As the boy charms any and all when a quiet moment is given
Wirt knows they must move and move, their goal neatly driven
For if they sit for long enough, then it just might be too late
The Unknown seems a foreboding thing; a dark and grisly fate.
And when they meet the Beast? And the lantern that it holds?
A soft and flutter-like flame that beats the worst of colds
It's strange to think that something so bright can only be the end
Of a dim-like evil life that's nothing like the friend
That the dear old Woodsman was as he put out the ancient flame
And learned of the Lost and the trees, and really who's to blame.
The Unknown has little fault in the horrors that it bears;
But those within it now have changed due to the brothers' affairs.
Wirt and Greg, they find the end, as most often do.
It seems at odds; to be right here at the final queue.
Wirt digs his shoe right into the ground and mumbles as he thinks
And Greg recalls these last few days and all their neat hijinks.
Wirt feels it again, that gentle tugging right behind his belly
Everything upends as he swirls about, his legs nothing but jelly
When he wakes he's underwater, his lungs burning as he chokes
But all he can think of right then and there is the Unknown and its folks.
An ambulance and its siren, and the lingering thoughts of the tale
Wirt wonders what's real and not, for he certainly isn't hale.
It isn't just his lungs; his feet and body too—
It cannot be a distant lie, their journey was gone through.
Greg tells them all as Wirt listens and thinks, smiling as he hears
Funny what once was scary will be the best of stories in years.
Real or not, it doesn't matter, Wirt finally thinks
What lays beyond the Garden Wall is no longer a mighty jinx.
It's too bad then, that the boys miss it— perhaps a new tale of woe
Of a frog who'd been privy to it all, and the tinkling bell that sets its guts aglow.