Lackluster houses with chipped paintings up
Sat on the corner of Solomon Schupp.
Nothing of interest and nothing of woe,
Nothing but curtains waving in a window.
Birds, they would flock and fester and flee.
Cats, they would scamper and scatter and scream.
Midnight would veil the whole corner grey,
And shadows would blossom a darkling bouquet.
But deep in the ridges of the roof to the right,
Waited the banshee with malicious delight.
Someday they’d come, the new little souls,
Who knew nothing of her devilish goals.
For years she stayed, watched and waited,
Until the cursed day she long anticipated.
They came with smiles that she planned to burn,
But when she cried out, her voice returned.
Light filled the corner of Solomon Schupp,
And just like a sorrow, light swallowed her up.