Beware Mr. And Mrs. Fields

I’ve been trying to hide me crime

For so very long.

Mr. and Mrs. Fields

Were me only witnesses.

Day after day I’ve been imprisoned

Before a portrait of them

With most disapproving smirks

Upon their stern unhappy visages.

It’s been me most accursed lot

To have their portrait

As me only punishment.

I see it as what ‘American Gothic’

Must be like in Hell.

In the dead of night,

I awoke to me ultimate torment.

The Fields’, in the painting,

Had both turned to Skeletons.

Now I can truly never know repose.

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