by Peter W. Robinson

Created on: March 24, 2009

I was just a young boy
but I remember her so well
I thought she came from Heaven
they said she came from Hell

Sometimes in time memories can fade
but this one never will
so I'll tell a little story
of a house up on a hill

A gloomy-looking house it was
enough to scare a child
my friends would never go up there
but I was kind of wild

The woman who resided there
was beautiful to me

but the people of this sleepy town
regarded her with fear

They said she was a sorceress
Satan's favorite bi-
a daughter of Salem
a cold black-magic witch

I never did believe it
I guess I never will
but human hearts can be so black
and fear can sometimes kill...

One day she caught me spying
hiding in the wood
she motioned me to come to her
I didn't think I could

But sure enough when I looked down
my feet were on their way
I found I wasn't scared at all
I wondered what she'd say

She told me of the world outside
of things she'd seen and done
of places in the history books
and things that I'd become

I'd never been so fascinated,
so curious or captivated
I never wanted to leave
but it got dark-she said
goodnight to me

They say she up and left that night
I have my own belief
I think this town rose up as one
as silent as a thief

I think there is a shallow grave
somewhere outside this town
where they brought her on that stormy night
where they laid her body down

But this is just conjecture
and I'll let you decide
but I hope one thing they said was true:
When midnight comes...she rides

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