From the song "Fake Palindromes"
Armed with pitchforks and axes, Bramford’s menfolk raced up the mountainside to rid their town of the menacing beast, each ready to do his part—once they’d agreed to divide up equally any loot the monster left behind.
They found the demon asleep and fell upon it. Their work was bloody but quick.
Behind the vanquished beast they saw no jewels, no gold. Instead, a maiden, unconscious, lay amidst a pile of bones.
The men began to grumble. “What about our agreement?” someone yelled. Old Sal, their leader, sighed. With a shrug, he removed the hunting knife from his belt.