Hunting Monsters final front


When the last vampire has been staked
When the wolves howl no more
When the devil dogs cease to run
And the screaming vultures no longer fly

Then will Mordecai take his rest
Then will he lay his rifle down
And no more his shadowy countenance
Be seen on this forsaken Earth.

Far off though that day may be
For him as for all who draw human breath
That day surely comes
As sure as the rising of the moon in the twinkling sky.

But until then
The rifle is loaded, the pistols too
A lonesome figure rides
Christmas Eve.