Mary Anne Thrax

I saw her one night in the back of the room
At a place that was called "The Every Man's Tomb."
Her lips were dark blue, and her eyes green as bile.
And her skin was like pus, pale yellow and vile.

Her breath, a green fog, clouded over her face,
And a dank swampy smell permeated the place.
Her hair was dull yellow with streaks of green mold,
And her life-in-death stare made me shiver with cold.

She snaked her way toward me through the pub's wretched squalor,
And stared down at me as she stroked my tight collar.
Then her lips opened wide and her tongue flitted out.
And the sting on my lips nearly caused me to shout.

Then after we kissed I felt breathless and hot,
But the fever of passion was not what I'd got.
My skin was as sticky as hot candle wax,
For the name of the dame was Mary Anne Thrax.