A Haunting

A Haunting

Gather round me, this old bard
And hear a tale of times both old and hard
Of a haunted house and its ghastly ghost
About which few can knowledge boast

A mansion stood, it’s said, upon a hill
Even then, they say, it was quite shrill
Haunted it was at some old crone’s behest
So none would bother her in deathly rest

The ghost was that of a stable hand
A rowdy, gruff and violent man
He rattled chains while still alive he was
But rattle now in death he does

There was a village near this house
There lived a man with children and his spouse
He loved each one with all his heart,
But in mischief did his offspring oft took part

A dare they placed, on who would go
Into the mansion of old Winterblow
The boys had laughed and quipped in jest
But none would take such a frightful test

And so it fell upon a flower young
To send her fear into oblivion
She squired her jaw and clenched a fist:
“Any magic I’ll resist”

The gates had creaked and wailed
Like in a guarding of some secret they had failed
Abigail stepped to the courtyard dark
And felt bereft of all life’s spark

She walked up to the door, raised her fist to knock
“If these are locked, it’s just my luck”
But opened they to her quite wide
So she stepped in, a sure and measured stride

The ghost had felt her presence quick
And to the hall he went, unheeding walls of mortar thick
As Abigail was standing still and awed
The stableman towards her clawed

“Dare you this mansion enter?
If so, you then surrender
Never shall you leave, dear lass
You’ll keep me company inside, alas”

She screamed, she wailed, she cried for help
But who would hear her thin, pathetic whelp?
And so a ghost, she too, became
Guarding the mansion in Winterblow’s name

And so the story ends, my lads
And true it is – no doubts on that!
So weary be of houses old
Who knows what secrets may they hold?