Mysterious

I heard a tale spun lightly

In tones of blue, red and white

Two weeks seem to be woven

Into the tale of a moonlit night

When dozens in boats with shovels

Went digging the ground near a riverbank

It might have been a lakeshore

But the legend says the word skank

Was written in blue or black pen

In the pocket or or purse of a past lover

Of one aboard the mystery’s boat

This will be “a night to discover”

Just what it is this mystery holds

I hope I never must learn it

Because of the legend’s tale teller

I know whose throat will get slit

Please do not ask me questions

There are a few lives at risk

I’d rather not jinx it by saying

Who gets buried out in the sticks.

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