The Old Haunted House

From the old haunted house that sat on the hill,
I could hear screams and moans that gave me a chill.
I sneaked 'round the back so's not be seen,
Crouching down near a deep, dark ravine.

The full moon above cast its light on this hole,
Where skulls of the dead lay, row after row.
The horror I felt as I knelt at the edge,
Was replaced with sheer terror when pushed from the ledge!

Tumbling end over end, at the bottom I lay,
Among skulls and bones and all kinds of decay.
A monster's face laughingly leered from above,
The very ghoul who had given me a shove!

Oh, why did I bother to investigate,
The sounds coming from this house of hate?
Now I had only small hope to be saved,
From what might be my eternal grave!

I lay very still, my heart filled with dread,
Hoping the ghoul would think me quite dead;
Lucky I was, as he left me alone,
His exit was followed by a piercing moan!

Scratching and clawing my way up the side
Of this premature grave, I tried and I tried.
Breathless, I pulled myself over the top,
Running from screams that just wouldn't stop,

Until safely locked inside my home,
I was never to know who was making that moan...
For the next morning when I awoke,
I learned the old house had gone up in smoke.

So let me just wish you a Happy Halloween,
With advice to steer clear when you hear a scream,
And perhaps at the end of this scary night,
You'll arrive safe at home with nary a fright!




Copyright 2000 Virginia Carlson








Except where otherwise noted, all poetry on this website is the copyrighted work of Virginia Carlson at "" Please see my Terms of Use.
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