THE CASTLE
On the hillside north of town
Just beyond the church and steeple tall
There lies in ruin a castle grand
Surrounded by a crumbling wall.
These wooden beams are fragile now,
These stones have fallen free.
And ivy covers what remains
As far as eyes can see.
Who owned this land and castle grand?
No one seems to know.
But for the ghosts of owners past
The legends always grow.
So if you be here late of night
Just as the moon is high,
Be wary of this hallowed land
When you hear the owner's cry.
© Alan Winters
Webmaster: Thurman P. Woodfork
View My Guestbook
Sign
My Guestbook
Graphic by njgphoto
Background sequence by Garret Thomson