Come listen my friends on this cold, dark and windy night
And I will tell you a tale that will fill your heart with fright
It all begin in a fine mansion so many, many, years ago
In a place called Bur Oak Glade, I swear every word is so
There was a maiden in this place, so tall, plain and thin
She had no lover so plain was she but passion burned within
Her father feared no match for her, so lacking in beauty was she
She hated her fate, that an old maid schoolteacher she must be
But a fire burned within her and filled her heart with ire
Flames that would fan a blaze with consequences so dire
Her life was filled with anger at this thankless life she led
That her face would crack if she smiled was of her often said
One day, while drawing water from the schoolhouse well
A traveling tinker stopped with his wagon of goods to sell
He was swarthy with dark curly hair and eyes black and bold
And around his neck he wore a large filigree cross of shining gold
He was a foreign man and he spoke with a broken tongue
He held her hand and begged to meet her when the last bell was rung
That he was totally unsuitable mattered not a wit to her
Her passion and hunger so strong that nothing could deter
When the last bell had rung she ran so fast to the schoolhouse well
And started down the path that would lead her straight to hell
He took her hand and kissed her and with her had his way
And when he took his leave he promised to return another day
Every day she waited at the well, for her dark lover to return
So sad for the uncommonly maiden, how her broken heart did yearn
But something else plagued the maid and filled her heart with fear
For something grew inside her that should be precious and so dear
Months later in the lonely darkest hour of the night
A weak cry was heard just before the breaking light
Just one small weak cry and then was heard no more
Then the creaking sound of a slowly opening door
Down the cellar steps she crept, a bundle at her side
And when at her destination she threw it deep inside
A living hell, the rest of her life would forever be
To her grave a bitter old women went, but no virgin she
One hundred years passed and the mansion had fallen down
An old dilapidated ruin, as it sat at the very edge of town
One day two young boys were digging in the cellar ground
And shocked the whole village with the horrible thing they found
Deep in the bottom, buried in an old cistern well
They found the secret the maiden would never tell
It was an old wooden cask nearly rotted away
One hundred years since it had seen the light of day
In the old cask, when opened was a sad grisly sight
The small bones of a babe hidden on a long ago night
Stranger yet, in the midst of the little bones, we are told
Lay a large filigree cross made of bright shining gold
The rumors flew and the talk was long and wild
But soon the town forgot about the long dead child
And in the end, the old house did as the maiden bade
And kept for her forever, the secret of Bur Oak Glade
Copyright (c) Roger Eugene Corell, October 2001
All rights reserved
).setAttribute('href','//poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?sitename=poet6958&item=home');document['poetimage'].height='45';document['poetimage'].src='//poetrypoem.com/photos/poets/poet6958-button.jpg';;WriteLayer('ptitle',null,'Seeding The Storm');WriteLayer('ppoem',null,'Cotton is picked before cloth is made Footings poured to support the stage L<a href="//poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?poemnumber=1350222&displaypoem=t&sitename=poet6958&item=poetry" target="_top" style="text-decoration:none;"><font style="color: #18397C;font: 900 12px times;"> ... More</font></a>');WriteLayer('poetinfocus',null,'poet6958');WriteLayer('pdate',null,'2024-04-26')){kind=small}
poet6958
).setAttribute('href','//poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?sitename=author3578&item=home');document['poetimage'].height='45';document['poetimage'].src='//poetrypoem.com/photos/poets/author3578-button.jpg';;WriteLayer('ptitle',null,'My Father');WriteLayer('ppoem',null,'Hard working Early morning rising Wise sayings Climbing the ladder The fi<a href="//poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?poemnumber=1350178&displaypoem=t&sitename=author3578&item=poetry" target="_top" style="text-decoration:none;"><font style="color: #18397C;font: 900 12px times;"> ... More</font></a>');WriteLayer('poetinfocus',null,'author3578');WriteLayer('pdate',null,'2024-04-24')){kind=small}
author3578).setAttribute('href','//poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?sitename=poetry2071&item=home');document['poetimage'].height='45';document['poetimage'].src='//poetrypoem.com/photos/poets/poetry2071-button.jpg';;WriteLayer('ptitle',null,'IM UP WIDE AWAKE AND PRAYING TO ==GODS== ');WriteLayer('ppoem',null,'IM UP WIDE AWAKE, PRAYING TO <a href="//poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?poemnumber=1350217&displaypoem=t&sitename=poetry2071&item=poetry" target="_top" style="text-decoration:none;"><font style="color: #18397C;font: 900 12px times;"> ... More</font></a>');WriteLayer('poetinfocus',null,'poetry2071');WriteLayer('pdate',null,'2024-04-26')){kind=small}
poetry2071).setAttribute('href','//poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?sitename=kuopenyung&item=home');document['poetimage'].height='45';document['poetimage'].src='//poetrypoem.com/photos/poets/kuopenyung-button.jpg';;WriteLayer('ptitle',null,'Stupidity and Calamity');WriteLayer('ppoem',null,'Stupidity and Calamity Madness can be contagious. Badness can be hardly reco<a href="//poetrypoem.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?poemnumber=1282852&displaypoem=t&sitename=kuopenyung&item=poetry" target="_top" style="text-decoration:none;"><font style="color: #18397C;font: 900 12px times;"> ... More</font></a>');WriteLayer('poetinfocus',null,'kuopenyung');WriteLayer('pdate',null,'2018-09-18')){kind=small}
kuopenyung
PoetryPoem.com 