On top of Gallows Hill the noose swings gently
Watch as the sky turns bloody red
Leaves are dancing in the wind
As death offers an eternal bed
Cries for justice are being called
And will be served to them
Shall be as hot as hell itself
For Satan has came to Salem
In the local County Jail
The windows bring no light
Prisoners are captive here
To weak to speak or fight
Salem used to be a quiet town
A speck of dust upon the map
But now with all this nonsense
Salem will awake from her nap!
Crab-faced, crab-tongued, with deep-set eyes that glared,
Unfriendly and unfriended lived the crone
Upon the common in her hut, alone,
Past which but seldom any villager fared.
Some said she was a witch and rode, wild-haired,
To devils' revels: on her hearth's rough stone
A fiend sat ever with gaunt eyes that shone —
A shaggy hound whose fangs at all were bared.
So one day, when a neighbour's cow had died
And some one's infant sickened, good men shut
The crone in prison: dragged to court and tried:
Then hung her for a witch and burnt her hut. —
Days after, on her grave, all skin and bones
They found the dog, and him they killed with stones.
COMMENTS
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Ladybloodrosesilvermaine
03:33 Oct 15 2011
great poem if you want to can read mine and add me to your favorites I will for you.
Loki1313
20:02 Oct 15 2011
I like it. Try posting your poems at: www.thestarlitecafe.com