Spooky Tales For Edna

Something very strange is lurking in the well ...

Maybe they're friendly ... or maybe not ...

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Hubert was desperate to be a magician but has he gone one trick too far ...?

Poor old Saint Nick is in a bit of trouble ...

But maybe Christmas can be saved ... but I doubt it ...

Can you hear that? The rustling in the bushes? The scratching at the doors?

There is something outside ...

Windows blackened like bruised eye lids

Rocks thrown by neighbourhood kids

Tiles flaking like clay dandruff

Left derelict,  it had enough

With a heave and crunch of masonry

The House was no longer stationary

Unhinged, the door flapped wide

An empty stomach hidden inside

The hall carpet lolled like a tongue

Broken pipes and cables hung

It shuffled down the vacant street

Slowly, on splintered makeshift feet

It looked at rows of beautiful homes

The warm glow of life it had never known

It wanted, no needed occupants

Whether willing or resistant

It creaked and groaned as it made its way

Scooped up dog walkers, business talkers starting their day

It gobbled a crowd waiting for the bus

A whole old residence home (they made no fuss)

A playground of smoking teens

Old or young, anyone that was seen

They rolled down its dusty, cobwebbed hall

To fill the abode from wall to wall

Now full to the brim the town stood silent

It never intended to be so violent

But after standing so alone

It needed some bodies to call it home

I would like you to meet a good friend of mine ...

The scarecrow

Firstly, I'd like to begin

That scaring old crows is a bore

You barely have to even flash them a grin

And they've gone belly up on the floor

But children, on the other hand

I take pride with the thrill and delight

When I see them, I strike up the band

I like when a scare puts up a fight

They cut through my field and over my crop

As a dare, as a joke or a prank

But every time they seem to stop

When they see me their faces go blank

A sack you see, makes up my head

Inside is stuffed with straw

An old jacket, some trousers make up my body and legs

Propped up by pole in the floor

First I just swing in the wind for a while

Just to set up what is to come next

A flap of the jacket and flash them a smile

I can tell by their face they're perplexed

Then they look past me and see row upon row

Of the children that have come before

And how they're all now little scarecrows

Propped up by their own pole in the floor

Then they look back but alas I am gone

They'll panic and scream and then run

But they'll run deeper  (oh this one's a keeper)

I'll smile again, oh what fun

I let them run wild in a frantic blind daze

Until they're all tired out

At this point they are lost deep in the maze

All filled with fear and doubt

Then they spot my old woven sack

As it flits behind forests of stalks

I'm shocked they don't have a heart attack

Like a mouse when it sees a fierce hawk

Now back at my post, I don't mean to boast

My crow kids are looking divine

Add one more to the pack with their new burlap sack

They used to be yours now their mine

So if you are walking down by my field

Pop in and just say hello

Send your kids in, if thats how you feel

I can add them to my scarecrow row