In the ancients days,
of the 1980’s.

Stories flew
around the middle school.

About a beast in the woods,
called the Gawanjee.

It came from the Pit,
of an old coal mine.

It was part lizard-man,
and a part Bigfoot.

It slept in the warmth,
of an old gob pile.

And in the winter,
it could be seen frozen.

In the ice,
of the deep, dark lakes.

Kids would tell,
of being chased through hell.

By the Gawanjee,
as they went through the trees.

Ol’ Bully Burns swore,
the Gawanjee stole his bike.

But, maybe that was me.
I’ll never tell.

At night, when the kids camped,
they told of the Gawanjee screams.

They shivered as they remembered,
the sounds of something big, in the lake.

The deep, deep lake,
where stolen bikes are never found.

Where echoes of laughter,
can still be heard.

And the Gawanjee,
sank to sleep in memory.

Sometime back,
when the 80’s died.