Family favorite, eight years old  "Girl, do what you're told!"  Sara sadly repeats her dreams  Dad wants company, it seems  Once more, his whispered warning  "You'll not tell a soul come morning!"    She reaches, deeply, a strange night's sleep  Swirling spirits creep  Their dance surrounds her with frenzied cries  "Girl, come forward and claim your prize!"  Smeared with the strangest feeling  And a vengeful passion congealing  She awakens, charged with their song  "Dad! I need you! Come here, please! I swear it won't take long!"    As Dad comes in, Sara smiles and bites clean through his skin  Now he screams, his booming voice is rising in his fall  By the time he hits the floor, he's just another doll  Cluttering the rug  "Hey, Dad! Come on over here now, and give your girl a hug!"    As Dad runs, frantically, towards the door  Clutching, blindly, his curious sore  Sara snatches him by the thigh  And holds him up to her judging eye  Casting a final ballot  Now she grabs an iron mallet    And holds it over his tiny legs  Dad stares, horrified, as he begs  But Sara smugly ignores his pleas  And smashes down with a violent breeze  With every bit that she hits she's willed  To strike again till his end is filled