Something for Halloween.

A Rose Cottage

Pass by that old stone wall, the bridge is closed
there appears to be a ghost a man all dressed up.
He stalks the abandoned bridge to a Rosé cottage
where his shadow now lingers along rotten planks.

A man once with dignity reduced to roam the night
as he groans and he moans, he is such a pitiful sight.
He’s doomed to question forever all his lonely nights
he returns with a single rose cut each hollowed night.
With his blade still shiny and bright he waits, he lurks
for there was no witness, yet blood drips from his knife.

He howls at the moon with a rose and a knife held high
you can hear the dreadful cries of his dead love inside.
With each petal he touches, they die again and again.
this man was enraged, for he stabbed his bride to be.
His ghost walks the night, that bridge to a cottage
he will never cross to that bed, he never slept in.

His Rose he loved so but cut her with his knife
she was found dead and his friend an awful sight
his darkest night, his wedding night, he killed them
then hung himself by his bride, her husband in effigy.
It was the last known deed of a broken, desperate man
who only wanted to live with his dearest Rose that night
and cross a bridge to his wedded bride, his friend denied.