An old village women's folk tale

Windows creak and old winds blow

dark as night the forest looms

old men cry and widowed women weep

for the lost souls that they could not keep

Bricks and mortar, walls of stone

mortal men do make these home

but sure as night doth turn to day

all lives must pass, and naught but mem'ries stay

The wood ‘yond the last manned gate

Calls eternal to man and beast alike

Yet what lurks within its ancient bounds

Shall forever sunder e’en the bravest to the ground