THE OLD ROAD

On dark nights
So the story goes
That old road
Where no one roams
Is scarely lit
With lantern dim
The spirits walk
From deep within.

The ruins of
The old church stand
Windswept and broken
By unknown hands
Its old cross creaks
In wind to sway
The gnarled trees branches
Point the way.

At midnight
If you were to go
To the crossroads
Deep in snow
Take the old road
Northward bound
You may see
The hellish hound.