Lines composed upon learning of the death of Boris Karloff
They say your name was William Pratt;
There’s nothing frightful about that.
But then you changed to Karloff (Boris)
And gave us all the hairy horrors.
We’ll miss your Monster and your madness
Your leaving fills us with a sadness.
No one robbed a grave like you
Nor so horribly made up a stew.
Those gleaming eyes, that fearsome chuckle;
Our nails were nibbled to the knuckle.
You and Lugosi: what a twosome—
no one else could be so gruesome!
Your time on screen you never frittered,
Within the hour the place was littered
With nameless things, neatly dissected,
Pale heroines (gasp!) vivisected.
We loved your playmates round the fire:
Chaney, Carradine and Ouspenskaya–
What thrills when the latter read a palm
And whispered low the werewolf alarm!
You always scared us half to death;
We’d turn quite blue from holding breath.
It’s often said, but ne’er more true:
There’ll never be another you.
© 2014 K R W Treanor