ramblings and things

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Ghost Story III

They were arriving from the cities,
From the villages and the towns,
A reward having been offered to the
One who hunts our Mad Meg down.
‘Twas landlord up at Spectre's head
Who caused all this bloomin' mess;
With his eye for a profit he went
And informed t' national press.
Now they're up on Top Moor Road
With trip wires all over t' ground
And packs of them special recorders
To try and pick up any sounds.
First night they thought they were lucky
But it was only daft young Harry Steen
Trying his hand with his lass Betty
Up there on Top Moor Green.
He's a bit bitter is young Harry,
He thought  his luck was in at last
After all those months of wooing
But they moved summat up int' grass.
Now Betty isn't talking to him cos
Before she could adjust her dress
They were illuminated by flash guns
From those members of the press;.
And now  daft lass thinks she's
Better than him or thee and me
Since they went and put her photo
In T'Sun , full view,  page three.
‘T was just a four day wonder,
But t'day after press left town
A woman in white was sighted,
And t' Spectre's Head burned down.
Mad 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.

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Ghost Story III