THIS OLD MANOR HOUSE

This old manor house, this burnt out shell
This weed choked ruin with a secret to tell,
These moss cloaked walls, an echo of glory
If you but listen they'll tell you their story.

Long years ago, when dukes ruled the land
The old manor house stood lofty and grand,
The strength of its master shone all too clear
A strength reinforced by cruelty and fear.

The lord of the manor, before he was wed
Took many maidens to his ducal bed,
Till one servant girl, falling foul of his seed
Also fell foul of his cruel "moral" creed.

She told him the news, she thought they'd be wed
Her black hearted lover just killed her instead,
Even in dying, with her very last breath
She vowed by her soul she'd avenge her death.

The duke washed his hands, he went on with his life
A mere twelve months later he took him a wife,
A lady of breeding, innocent, pure
A ravishing beauty, he couldn't want more.

The wedding itself was a lavish affair
The great and the good of the region were there,
The bride in her finery lit up the room
A voice in the shadows spoke softly of doom.

After the banquet events took their course
The lord took his lady with ungentle force,
His rutting completed, he drunkenly slept
She lay beside him and quietly wept.

Late in the night, the dark witching hour
The ghost of the servant coalesced by their bower,
True to her promise, this unappeased soul
Came at that moment to exact her toll.

The lord of the manor awoke past the dawn
The bedding beside him all bloodstained and torn,
He fell to the floor, he glanced 'neath the bed
Staring back at him, his bride's severed head.

That night to his chamber the ghost came again
Reducing to terror this bravest of men,
In soft words she told him that she'd be his wife
To be there beside him the rest of his life.

Each night thereafter she came to his bed
Each day was darkened by terror and dread,
Till one desperate evening, at last on the brink
He poisoned his wine glass, he need only drink.

Raising the glass to a trembling lip
He stealed himself to take that one sip,
From trembling hand the glass was smashed
His dream of freedom likewise dashed.

The haunting then grew ever worse
With glee the ghost drove home her curse,
From her grip he must break loose
He placed his head in a hangman's noose.

His body swung beneath a beam,
The air was torn by a ghastly scream,
An unseen blade sliced through the rope
Once more robbing him of hope.

In time this bent and broken man
Was driven to try one final plan,
In cleansing fire he'd die at last
Into the flames his life he cast.

The fire spread from room to room
Its glow lit up the winter gloom,
Above its roar his screams were heard
But the servant girl had the final word.

Together they haunt these blackened halls
Forever ensnared by moss cloaked walls,
This weed choked ruin became his hell
This old manor house, this burnt out shell.

COPYRIHT D M PAMMENT 2010