The Hellhounds of Dartmoor
Past weathered tors the keen dogs bound,
Paws sturdy over granite ground,
With hooks of steel set in the pads,
Could tear a man to myriads.
Eyes of fire, coat of charcoal,
From slender snouts does hellfire roll.
Set deeply in their ghostly jaws,
Canines of canines of the moors.
Reflected in river Bovey,
Stood a string of Dartmoor ponies,
Windswept manes encase their ears,
The nightly fog reveals their fears.
The ponies don’t seem too unnerved,
Which gives us cause for much concern,
As closer to the water creeps,
The shadows of the hounds to leap.
Creatures, ultimately condemned,
Before the hounds were upon them,
Tried desperately to race away,
Their hind legs at the dogs they flayed.
They were no match for spirit dogs,
And heavily they fell to fog.
The hounds devoured every one,
Death called them back from where they’d come.
The morning came, with it the sun,
Surprised to find the ponies gone.
The farmers came, but knew the lore,
Of the fiendish Hellhounds of Dartmoor.