A Wrightson Saga... For several years I've been searching for a bit of doggerel from a horror comic book I had as a kid. I finally found it.→[More:]

It's not particularly work-unsafe (for a comic book) though it is mildly adult-themed, but use your judgment if you click through to the page scans.

Without further ado, here's "A Martian Saga," written by Nicola Cuti, from Berni Wrightson: Master of the Macabre #3 (Pacific/Eclipse, 1983).


I had come to the land of the pale ochre sand,
Where God shines his eye dim and cold,
Where the air though it's thin kicks a hell of a wind,
Which cuts through the tears in my clothes.

In the great Helas Bowl bright yellow clouds roll,
They swirl round a silver obelisk,
Once a ship, now a tomb, for my crew, for me soon,
Well, we all were aware of the risk.

There's no reason to stay, rescue's two weeks away,
And I've only three days worth of air,
So I'll see what I can of this desolate land,
The direction I go, I don't care.

Sure, there're clouds in the sky, but the seas are bone dry,
Cause nowhere on Mars does it rain,
Hills and craters abound, on the smooth desert ground,
But most of the land is the same.

Then I came to a plain, laminated terrain,
Where the ground into layers was pressed,
On the rust-colored land, camped a nomadic band,
In tough leather hides they were dressed.

They were fleshy and plump, round faces, full rumps,
But their bodies were as solid as clay,
They laughed at the man who breathed air from a can,
But in gestures they bid me to stay.

Corraled was a beast for some future feast,
And it seemed to know of that fate,
For as I came near it bellowed with fear,
And kicked till it broke down the gate.

It charged into the clan, and tore up a man
Then turned to a girl near my side,
While the tribesmen were stunned, I unholstered my gun
And burned a hole through its hide.

As the beast heaved and bled, moaning, dying, then dead,
The girl that I saved came to me,
Her face, so serene, her onyx eyes gleamed,
Like the moon on a glittering sea.

She was a girl I had known on the green fields of home,
She was each girl from out of my past.
The first girl I kissed, the one that I missed,
The best, the others, the last.

With a childlike charm, she accepted my arm,
For she understood my desire.
Neath oilskin dome, we were both all alone
As our nakedness shined in the fire.

I thankd all the stars, for this one night on Mars,
For the beauty so firm and so fair,
As we locked in embrace, horror twisted my face,
Damnation, I ran out of air!