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The Ghosts of Courthill

Contributed by romayne on Friday, 21st January 2005 @ 02:55:15 PM in AEST
Topic: Lifepoems

The farmhouse was nearly three hundred years old
And little of its history had we been told.
It stood in the valley at the foot of the hill
And the courthouse, now converted, is attached to it still.
At the top of the hill stood the hanging tree,
No longer there for people to see.
It had a cellar and attics and plenty of space,
A grand old house, in a beautiful place.
But when that house was quiet and still
Strange sounds youd hear at this place called Courthill.

Footsteps youd hear cross the bedroom floors
And the click of the catch heard on one of the doors.
Shadowy figures pass on the stairs and the hall,
But no one was there, no one at all.
The sound of the attic doors as they open and close
But why it happened nobody knows.
The back door would be heard to open at night,
But when someone looked it was still locked tight.
Wet footsteps to be seen along the hall floor
But no one had entered through the locked front door.

A figure often seen sitting on the end of the bed
Not a sound was made nothing was said.
Shed gaze at the children, as theyd soundly sleep
As though some protection she had to keep.
The children, of this figure, were never afraid
All fears of her seemed to be allayed.
Who she was we do not know,
But many have seen her, as past records show.
For twenty-two years with these happenings we dwelt,
But never any fear had the family felt.

One day my young grand children said to me
Granny theres something you must see.
To the side of the house they led the way,
To the cellar window they pointed that day.
Roman soldiers they said the window did slap
And with their swords the glass they did tap.
Disbelief soon got the better of me
And I did some research into history.
That was when I found that this part of the abode
Was built on the site of an ancient Roman road.

Written records by other generations have shown,
Those who have lived in this house, these happenings have known.
When friends came to stay wed not say a word
But in the morning they would say what theyd seen and heard.
Of a knock on their door they had been aware,
But when they opened it there was nothing there.
Some may think that these happenings were mad,
But a glimpse of past history is what we had.
Now I live in a house that is quiet and still
But I miss my guests, the ghosts of Courthill.

Copyright © romayne ... [ 2005-01-21 14:55:15]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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