One cold and windy Hallow's eve, I left my hearth and home
Against advice of kith and kin, I set my feet to roam.
The darkened, rainy city streets no terror held for me
For I had little knowledge of the horrors I would see.
I turned left on MacAdam, and a streetlight flickered out
Then two blocks further down, I felt a sudden chill of doubt.
As one more light went dim, and then another went as well
I couldn't help but think of her - the Biker Babe from Hell!
The Biker Babe, the Biker Babe, her form is long and lean
She rides these streets by night, they say, on every Hallowe'en.
Her bike is low and black and chopped, with phosphor on its chrome
All Hallow's Eve, my friends, had better find you safe at home!
Now, I was once a skeptic, and I laughed at tales of ghosts
And as for ghouls and monsters, they were only braggarts' boasts.
Inside a warm and well-lit room, we're all too quick to sneer
But put those sneers aside, my friends, for one night of the year.
Alas for pride, for stubborn pride, that holds good sense at bay
I turned my collar up, and hurried forward on my way.
But then my heartbeat faltered, and my breath caught in a sob
I saw a headlight's baleful glare, and heard a V-twin throb.
The Biker Babe, the Biker Babe, she wears a deathshead grin
She's dressed in rotting leathers, and her bones show through her skin.
Her Harley's engine thunders, and her headlight dims the stars
But worst of all, my friends, is what's between her handlebars.
The ghastly apparition then approached me, through the rain
I slowly backed away from it, while panic gripped my brain.
But closer still it rolled it to me, and when the streetlight's gleam
Fell full upon the rider's form, I could not help but scream.
My scream rang out once and again, but no one seemed to hear
No windows lit, no doors unlocked in answer to my fear.
The Biker Babe had found me, for I knew her by her scars
And severed head that rode between her raked-back handlebars.
The Biker Babe, the Biker Babe, the sleep of Death defies
And crimson coals now smoulder in the sockets of her eyes.
Oh, if she finds you out that night, when out you should not be
Her hellish form, my friends, will be the last thing that you see!
Her skin was bluish-grey, the very color of the grave
The rictus grin she wore would scare the bravest of the brave.
Her wild, dark hair was tangled all around the headlight case
And no words can describe the awful vision of her face.
I stood in fascination, like a rat before a snake
Until she revved her engine, when at once I came awake.
Then to my heels I took, as I in desperation fled
In terror of the rider, and her gruesome severed head.
The Biker Babe, the Biker Babe, she rides but once a year
So stay inside your house that night, no matter what you hear.
The footsteps that run past your door, the victim's cry of fright
Are tokens of her passing, as she rides on Hallow's Night.
I ran as fast as I could go, and then ran faster still
She followed as I bolted down the street and up the hill.
My shadow danced ahead of me, and wrung its hands in fear
As on her coal-black steed of death, the Biker Babe drew near.
My heart was pounding in my throat; I didn't dare look back
But from the headlight's glow, I knew that she was on my track.
And as the street closed off ahead, I found to my dismay
That I had passed MacAdam, in my haste to get away.
The Biker Babe, the Biker Babe, she hunts beneath the moon
If you go out on Hallowe'en, you're bound to see her soon.
Then so much for your piety, and so much for your gold
For neither one will help you once you're in the Biker's hold.
I turned at bay to face the Babe, as rain spat in my face
She parked her bike before me, and dismounted it with grace.
Her severed head she carried with her fingers in its hair
And when she paced toward me, then I truly knew despair.
My eyes were fixed in horror on her burning crimson stare
Until she raised her arm and flung her head into the air.
A moment in the autumn night, it almost seemed to float
And then with a hyena's laugh, it flew right for my throat!
The Biker Babe, the Biker Babe, there's no escape from her
For once she has you in her sights, your dreadful fate is sure.
So if you want to stay alive, you'll heed my story well
Or find yourself a victim of the Biker Babe from Hell!
My scream of terror echoed, and it woke me from my sleep
As morning's light began to break, and through the curtains creep.
And how my throat was parched, and oh, the pounding in my head
My skin was soaked with sweat, but I was safe in my own bed.
A moment I lay quaking, then I sprang up from my rest
I looked beneath the bed, and in the closet, and the chest.
But not a trace of her I found, 'til ghost-like in the gloom
I smelled the scent of motor oil that lingered in my room.
The Biker Babe, the Biker Babe, she isn't really there
She's just a story people tell, to give themselves a scare.
But there things that roam the night that we have never seen
And that is why I won't go out, on any Hallowe'en!
Pinfeather pinfeather@att.net