<<To be said to the chant of a jump rope>>
Three little ponies Going camping in the woods,
Bringing lots of snacks, scary tales, and goods.
One slipped off,
from the others alone.
Finding the name carved in a log,
She read the word that was gouged in Pone.
The name it was should never be said,
The name written on the lips of the dead.
That little pony disappeared.
Gone without a trace,
or so it was feared.
Her screams had echoed through the curs-ed air,

Read More