Twas the night before New Year's

And the weather grew mean

Twas three in the morning

And I was stranded in Queens!



The tavern grew empty

The gas lights grew dim

The horse-drawn carriages

Were all but snowed in



Last call was approaching

And my fortunes looked bleak

Then I turned to my left

And stifled a shriek!



She had a peach-fuzz beard

And weighed sixteen stone

She gobbled up hot wings

And swallowed the bones



I muffled a scream

And threw up in my mouth

I asked, "Where do you live?"

And she said, "One block south."



I swallowed my pride

And six shots of Whiskey

And prayed to the gods

That she wasn't too frisky



Back in her cave

She prepared us a snack

Neath her mighty hooves

The floorboards did crack



But when she returned

She found a sound sleeper

And thus she became

The sexless innkeeper