Biting wit 

A monk stopped on a summer's morn
To pick a daisy sprig
And trampled on a mourning son
Who'd just been at the dig.

The boy jumped up to greet the friar
And tripped on two left feet
(Deformity a trial by fire)
And said his name was Pete.

Young Pete had hobbled through the glen
To say his last goodbye
But when he came to grave of kin,
He gave a startled cry.

Y'see Pete's dad had flown the coop
And clawed his way out dead,
A vampire bite the way out loop
Eternal life instead.

The monk put hand upon Pete's arm
And smiled a murky grin,
Then said to Pete, "I mean you harm"—
Bit Pete's dad's next of kin.