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"(the epic saga of ) The Mothman Festival": a folk song

 
 Well I musta been plum crazy when my daughter said to me
That girl from Will and Grace was in this movie on TV
With some guy named Richard somethin'; was in somethin' else I seen
“The Mothman Lives”, or somethin'- No, “The Mothman Prophesies”
 
Well I know to think before I speak but some how I thought last
And I said,”There was this girl that I once worked with in the past
Don't you remember Rita? She made them brownies all the time
Childhood Sunday's handlin' snakes with Jesus on her mind
 
She grew up and turned Wicken, husband beat her every night
Now he got some medication, and she says he's doin' alright
Well anyway she used to live down there, some small Ohio town
Just north of Point Pleasant, when the Mothman was around”
 
This tale I tell is mostly true, though it may seem awful tall
This here's the epic saga of the Mothman Festival
Mothman freaks and Sci Fi geeks all here the clarion call
To Point Pleasant West Virginia and the Mothman Festival
 
Now my daughter loves her horror films and her “Haunted Histories”
And all this talk of Mothman sparked her curiosities
So she hopped on that old internet, and there sellin' Mothman tees
In Point Pleasant, West Virginia, was the Mothman's own museum
 
It said “ We're open 9 to 5 most days, and every fall
We close the streets to traffic, have a “Mothman Festival”
She jumped for joy, she begged me, “Please, Oh Daddy can we go?
“It's just a little ways from here, on the banks of the Ohio”
 
Well I rarely ever listen to what my daughter says to me
But food an fuels the only cost, the festival was free
So we drove that trusty Dodge on down State Route 23
To Point Pleasant, West Virginia and those Mothman festivities
 
This tale I tell is mostly true, though it may seem awful tall
This here's the epic saga of the Mothman Festival
Mothman freaks and Sci Fi geeks all here the clarion call
To Point Pleasant West Virginia and the Mothman Festival
 
When we drove up to the place, it looked like any country fair
The smell of buffalo Mothman wings fillin' up the air
But instead of carts for shootin' darts at stars and winnin' prizes
It was psychic investigators and their ghost bustin' devices
 
The museum documented all the Mothman sightings here
A poem by Debra Messing, lock of hair from Richard Geere
The “Men in Black”, and the cover up of that fateful prophecy
A Cartel International Mothman Conspiracy
 
We stopped into an old hotel and the ever gracious host
Told about a documentary crew rumored to have seen a ghost
“I was just above the bannister, right beyond that third newel post
You can kinda make it out here in the Polaroid photo”
 
This tale I tell is mostly true, though it may seem awful tall
This here's the epic saga of the Mothman Festival
Mothman freaks and Sci Fi geeks all here the clarion call
To Point Pleasant West Virginia and the Mothman Festival
 
There was Mothman hats, and Mothman gloves, and Mothman shirts and shoes
The local Mothman ballet doin' a Mothman pas de deux
The proprietor of curio shop sellin' Mothman souveniers
Heard me laughin' at a T shirt and said “Let me make this perfectly clear...”
 
“The Mothman ain't no laughin' matter down here in West Va
There are those swear they see the Mothman to this very day
That dog's Bandit on that T shirt, Mothman made his disappear
All my T shirts got a story, take a look at this one here...”
 
“That really ain't the Mothman's face there on that Mothman head
It's an artists rendition of an apparition above my head
It's orbs and stuff and ectoplasm brought upon by ghosts
You can kinda make it out here in this Polaroid photo”
 
This tale I tell is mostly true, though it may seem awful tall
This here's the epic saga of the Mothman Festival
Mothman freaks and Sci Fi geeks all here the clarion call
To Point Pleasant West Virginia and the Mothman Festival
 
Well in 1966 it's said afloatin' overhead
About half a dozen people saw those moth eyes glowin' red
No one can really say for wherst he come or wast it meant
Some say he don't appear without disaster to portend
 
It might be the sacred ground this town was built on housed the dead
Or the echoes in the rocks of words George Washington once said
It might be the brown fields all around that abandoned factory
Where back in World War II they manufactured TNT
It might be the concrete glow of that big nuclear power plant
callin' Mothman to the flames like a buzzin blue bug lamp
 
 
But whatever called the Mothman here has robbed me of my sleep
And put images of glowin' eyes into my moth-filled dreams
And I wake up ever morning tryin' to avoid the call
of Point Pleasant West Virginia and the Mothman Festival

 

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