When I was a lad, and still lived with my Dad, I first heard about young
Johnny Thames.
It's a tale often told, to the young by the old, to send chills to the
core of their bones.
'Tis a tale they do tell, full of terror and dread, of the rider who comes
in the night.
When moon is all dark, and the fires do spark, in the hearth yet shed
hardly no light.
In year 43, it just happened to be, when young Johnny was just seventeen.
He was out really late, when he met his sad fate, on his bike that was
shinny and bright.
He was terribly proud that it sounded so loud, you could hear him for
miles around.
But the man in the van that in-to him ran, was so old he was deaf to it's
sound.
He was rounding a bend when his life it did end, on the park road just
outside of town.
The impact was great and thou it was late, it awoke the whole place with
its sound.
They all rushed to the scene, and the ladies did scream, at the horror
they saw in the road.
And the flames were so high that it lit up the sky, and the trees in the
park even glowed.
And then out of flames rode young Johnny Thames, and away he sped off
on his bike.
He was wrapped all in red, as flames leapt from his head, and yet somehow
they sensed he could tell.
That they'd all simply stood, as though carved out of wood, no one daring
to venture too near.
As if rooted in place, cause they just couldn't face, their despair as
they hung back in fear.
As they watched him go by, evil shot from his eye, they could tell that
he wished them no good.
Now the town lives in fear, they know Johnny is near, plotting evil and
mischief and hurt.
No one goes out past dark, no one enters the park, on the old road that
runs past the town.
It is dry to the bone, not a good place to roam, it lies fallow and dismal
and brown.
Only young foolish boys, who are bored with their toys, ever venture
to enter that place.
But they don't stay too long, cause the place feels all wrong, they know
Johnny is lurking about!
Sometimes in the night, there's a quick flash of light, that's reflected
from out of that park;
When a car rushes past, high beams trying to blast, all the fear from
that place when it's dark.
It could well be some chrome, or the shine off the dome, of Johnny's
now bald hairless head.
But not one cares to know, enough to dare go, in that wood when the sun
has gone down.
So it's now Johnny's place, and quite often he'll race, through the town
in the stillness of dawn.
With a face that's so pale, would make anyone quail, and burnt skin that
is so tightly drawn.
Over bones without flesh, that are deader than death, he goes roaring
about that poor place.
Casting terror untold, with a grimace so cold, he's the reaper that comes
for their souls.
So he tears through the town, riding up and back down, with that evil
look deep in his eye.
So you'd best not be out, of that have no doubt, or till daylight you
might not survive!
When he died made a deal, that can not be repealed, the grim reaper now
stands by his side.
Now he rides to collect, souls to pay up the debt, that he feels the town
owes for it's crime.
For their failing to act, when they all just stood back, while the fire
consumed all to ash.
When he's out on his ride, if in time you don't hide, then your soul he
will add to his cache.
He enacts his revenge, that no action will mend, though the town folk
have tried all they might.
It's too late to repair, they can only just stare, at the horror that
that rides through the night.
Now that once happy place, lives with naught but disgrace, for their failure
to act on that day.
No one put out the flames, that burnt young Johnny Thames, and forever
he WILL make them pay!
