The Brave Knight of Transfer

There was once a man called Charlie,
and Charlie was quite brave you see,
His hats were baseball, his shoe size, seven.
And did many thing most wouldn’t question.  

He drank his pop from a soda can,
And ate his food with both his hands.
Put his pants on, one leg at a time,
And never shook hands with dirty crime.  

One day he set out, not sure what for,
And walked through an open door.
Where ever it led, we’ll never know,
Though it did emit an eerie glow.  

Charlie fell for three whole days,
Screaming and twisting in many ways.
Landing at the bottom he looked around,
Nothing but darkness and not a sound.  

There in the middle, was a childs doll,
Made of porcelain, and frankly quite small.
A faint tune was heard, so faint and strange
A high pitched keening, no musical range.  

It shook, it cried, it twistedly twisted,
Its little glass hands small and wicked,
Painted lips opened, broken glass teeth,
That porcelain held scary  fear beneath.  

Charlie in fear, begins some screaming,
A higher pitch than that aweful keening.
The doll it shook, pained and confused,
That fools screaming had it subdued.  

The glass it splintered, it fell in shards.
And Charlie fainted, hit the ground hard.
He awoke in the streets, holding a porcelain head,
His screaming killed that wicked doll dead