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