The Legend of Butcher's Holler

The legends go, as locals know, deep down in Butcher’s Holler
dark demons came to lay their claim to Butcher’s only daughter.
Jeb Butcher died the night he tried to keep her from their clutches.
His old dog, Blue, he soon died too–pure hate taints all it touches.

Their loyal hound had been around since Katy was a baby.
The townies say that faithful stray adored his little lady.
But evil’s cruel–the Devil’s jewel–it craves pure innocence.
A tender soul cannot cajole such sheer malevolence.

Their family poor, still they had more of love and simple pleasures.
Our faith transcends what poorness lends to life’s most cherished treasures.
Still no one knew what Jeb would do when Willa, his lonely wife,
 would take a lover– this wife and mother– and forsake her family life.

Jeb Butcher trekked to write a check signed in his boiling blood,
to Maven Fitch, a local witch, who released a fiery flood.
He'd bargain with a precious gift–the soul of his young child.
Jeb made a pact–his mind had cracked– he would not be beguiled.

That wily witch, she sewed a stitch into Jeb’s fevered hide.
and sealed the pact which would exact revenge on Jeb’s young bride.
Twine sewn in skin, bonds born of sin, ensured he’d pay in full.
Before the dawn Jeb's wife was gone; she'd died a death most cruel.
 
Old Blue went too as if he knew that something wasn’t right.
That cur stood guard out in the yard–he howled all through the night.
When hell hounds came to stake their claim on Butcher’s only daughter,
that mongrel hound was tightly wound–just itching for a slaughter.

 Around midnight, 'neath full moon's light, atop tall ancient oaks
whispered lies, hushed lullabies, belied evils they bespoke.
Blue wasn’t fooled, when soon he dueled with creatures, old and dark.
The muffled screams of vicious things were drowned out by each bark.

When dust had cleared, just as was feared, they took Jeb’s little girl.
That dog was changed, became deranged–morn’s mists began to whirl.
When searchers came amidst the bane, not much remained of Jeb.
The preacher wept while Old Blue slept the sleep of one well fed.
 

The legends go, as locals know, deep down in Butcher’s Holler
dark demons came to lay their claim to Butcher’s tiny daughter.
Out in those woods, where once was good, pure evil's on the prowl.
You’d best beware should you go there and hear Blue's mournful howl.