Headless

Have you heard of me?
They call me Dullahan,
I was once a mercenary,
But grew too impetuously ruthless,
And the headsman brought on this curse,

Have you seen my head?
It scarpered as if on the breeze,
So now I must search for it,
Or a substitute at least,
This Jack-O-Lantern doesn’t cut it,

I ride every October,
On a nag of pale flesh,
My sabre has taken many potential proxies,
But they just don’t seem to fit,
Or mayhap I enjoy cleaving them free,

Be careful child,
During this season of the harvest,
When I take to the gallop,
And that nape lies exposed,
You just might lose your head too.

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