The Curious Tragedy of Deacon Culbart

One day of journey passes by,

And here, the tale does start

Of how came upon the bonny boy

The curious Deacon Culbart:

The rabbit Taxis on and on kept

Until at last she stopped,

To point, sidelong and with a paw,

A tower, steel-pike topped

“We’ll rest there now,” the rabbit said,

“soon on us will descend

the daydown lights, and with it too

flocks underwock, beaks the end.”

“If so you say,” then Alice replied,

And on sidelong they went

Out to the outpost, Order tower,

Whose deacon, shelter lent;

“Come in, come in,” Culbart, he said,

His shell shaking with sigh

And, when thinking his guests all gone,

Then Alice saw him turn and cry

So silent-harsh his weeping was,

Eyes wide open all the while

So strange to watch, but, lagging late,

Away to Taxis, Alice did file

Up to their rooms, the two did climb

While Taxis spoke, officious:

“Come morning time we’ll spring away

And soonly meet the Duchess”

So parting ways, to darkened bed

And pillow, Alice felled

But could not sleep, all even as

In night Underland dwelled

But then, when all stood still and dark,

Into the silence crept

The pattering of scaled feet

Upon the climbing steps

And spiralled upward through the tower,

Claws clicked a marble way

Up to the merloned roof that faced

Black sky who’d banished day

On quiet and un-booted feet

Rose Alice, all awares

And taking up her coat and spade

Climbed swiftly up the stairs

Then, creeping out and on the roof,

She caught this in her gaze:

The Deacon Culbart, standing straight,

Arms open, eyes a-glaze

So Alice paused and Alice watched,

But nothing there did change

Till sudden screeches tore the night

And flew across the range;

Emerging from the darkness,

With feathers red and vile,

Flew close upon the deacon there

An underwock, hostile

But stranger still, as Alice watched

And harkened, set to listen

She Culbart heard, entreatingly

Call: “Come in, death, come in!”

The purpose of a cry as such,

She could not grasp or reckon

But knew, with every second passed,

The danger he did beckon

Soon as the underwock drew near

The bonny boy burst out

From shadows into nightlight stark

And spun her blade about

And slashed and stabbed and pierced above

Until the thing, she struck,

And killed it on the marble floor,

Corpse downward, she did chuck

She turned then to Culbart’s way

But froze when in his eyes

She saw a dead, abyssal dread,

Far darker than the skies

Then, crying out, in mania wild,

And with a speed so horrible,

The Deacon ran and threw himself

Down off the tower of marble

So fast it was, all Alice did

Was rush to watch his fall,

To watch him splatter on the ground:

His shell, his limbs, and all

Yet still she heard him crying then,

“Come in,” all gargling hoarse

The deacon, like that soldier, seemed

A perpetual dying corpse