Veins in Vane

Vladislav Dracula
Son of the dragon
with a habit that sucked
He went on the wagon

All through the night
fitful sleep all a quiver
Dreams of transfusion
raw plates of warm liver

When the early morn broke
the dawn chorus sang

Cold Turkey morsels

Gave him pains in the fang

As the evening returned
with a head aching thud

Miasma of stale plasma
Sent him hunting for blood

Hypnotised maidens
with a blemish free neck
Gave way to the blood Count
and smirked what the heck