The Squonk

[Undertoad]

Back in the day I was a big fan of the old Genesis album "Trick of the Tail" and in particular "Squonk", which lyrically told the story of a mystical creature by that name. (Somewhere it became gauche for prog-rock bands to sing about fantasy and mythology and whatnot, but I always enjoyed that enough, and wasn't it Zeppelin who sang... oh never mind.)

Investigating it on the web turns up... this thing is from my home state, and the home state of many dwellars, Pennsylvania.

It was documented in 1911 in a book called "Fearsome Creatures of the Lumberwoods", which is online; and the entire entry reads:

http://www.angelfire.com/planet/apal...woods/pg31.htm

The range of the squonk is very limited. Few people outside
of Pennsylvania have ever heard of the quaint beast, which is
said to be fairly common in the hemlock forests of that State.
The squonk is of a very retiring disposition, generally traveling
about at twilight and dusk. Because of its misfitting skin,
which is covered with warts and moles, it is always unhappy ;
in fact it is said, by people who are best able to judge, to be the
most morbid of beast. Hunters who are good at tracking are
able to follow a squonk by its tear-stained trail, for the animal
weeps constantly. When cornered and escape seems impossible,
or when surprised and frightened, it may even dissolve itself
in tears. Squonk hunters are most successful on frosty moon-
light nights, when tears are shed slowly and the animal dislikes
moving about ; it may then be heard weeping under the boughs
of dark hemlock trees. Mr. J. P. Wentling, formerly of Penn-
sylvania, but now at St. Anthony Park, Minnesota, had a dis-
appointing experience with a squonk near Mont Alto. He
made a clever capture by mimicking the squonk and inducing
it to hop into a sack, in which he was carrying it home, when
suddenly the burden lightened and the weeping ceased. went-
ling unslung the sack and looked in. There was nothing but
tears and bubbles.

Clearly, the band had read the entry.

Walking home that night
The sack across my back, the sound of sobbing on my shoulder.
When suddenly it stopped,
I opened up the sack, all that I had
A pool of bubbles and tears - JUST A POOL OF TEARS.

And there's a marvelous illustration included.