The spirits from seven sad souls
As the old town church clock stopped ticking itās timing
There was no need for the bell ringer ding-donging his chiming
Everything in the dark stood still that night
An ambience of eerieness to fear and frightĀ
But Barbestelle Bats flew flapping in a frenzy
zig-zagging thru the graveyard by Father MacKenzie
Now this parish priest wasnāt easily afraid but at that very moment he kneeled and prayed
There were familiar sorrowful sounds and noises that he had heard beforeĀ
moaning groans and rusty rattles shaking on the vestry floor
Some say it was the spirits from seven sad souls who had perished down the mineshaft digging up black coals
Well whatever it was that yowled and prowled all the canines from theĀ
community howled and growled
Each year on the twenty fourth of September
All the local town folks will always remember
Twenty two children were fatherless with widowed wives when disaster struck and slayed seven lives
And all of these men died in their prime covered in charred coal dust and grungy grime
When the clock strikes twelve the hands start sticking and until the crack of dawn timelessness stops ticking
Then as if by magic the old town church bells ring and nobody says a whisper about anything
Ā
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Comments
wow wow wow!!!!!!
what a poem
a masterpice wow
how did i miss this
Awww I did few late last night luv Thanking you Greg ā¤ļøāļøā¤ļø