|
Ghost story VMad Meg of the Moors they call her And she's always dressed in white And she's looking for a bus stop As she wanders through the night. There's an air up ont' Top Moor Top It's an almost tangible thing It doesn't seem so dark and dank And birds have begun to sing Mad Meg has not been sighted For so long folk have started to say Perhaps the curse has gone at last And Mad Meg has slipped away. It's just not true of course Mad Meg has fallen in love Struck by those powerful emotions Like lightning from above She was wandering her normal route With her usual moaning wail When she ran into Heathcliffe And heard his haunting tale Now they happily wander together Always hand in hand Frolicking and loving and laughing Oe'er this once haunted land He's told her all about his Cathy And she's admitted to him About a back seat bus occurrence With a factory lad named Jim She loves his dark brooding looks He loves her meek and mild demeanor Thinks our Megs a bit of a cracker So glad at last he's seen her Mad Meg of the Moors they called her She's now more becomingly dressed in white Shes no time to look for bus stops Too busy loving Heathcliffe every night Vote for this poem
|
|
| |