As we were walking down the road
My father said to me,
"Beware the Old Gray Lady
Who lives by the dead oak trees.".
As only a little boy could be
So curious was I.
Without hint of hesitation
I boldly asked him "Why?".
My father stopped along the path
And quietly took a knee.
He paused for just a moment
And then began to speak.
"Long ago, before my time,
There lived a beautiful maiden.
Her head adorned with Auburn hair
And with a crown of jewels was laden.
The people in the nearby Village
Oft heard her in Fall nights,
As she would practice magic
Neath the glow of pale moonlight.
The maiden was loved by those who knew
Her warm and tender heart,
While others called her wicked;
A sorceress of dark arts.
One day a man came from the North
With golden forked tongue.
He spoke of marriage to the Maiden.
With his words her heart, he won.
The vows were said, the contract sealed,
The Maiden's head dethroned.
The man took the crown for himself
And left the Maiden heartbroken and alone.
The beauty of the Maiden
Faded into night.
She became withered and worn.
Her hair faded to white.
On Hallow's Eve she took her revenge
Against the man, her crown, he stole.
She cast him out of the Village
And banished him to the cold."
"What happened to her?" I asked my father
As quiet filled the twilight.
I suddenly felt a hint of fear
In the quickly fading light.
"Some say she died of a broken heart
Her body turned to dust.
But those in the Village warn she hunts
For victims in their lust.
They say on cold Autumn nights
A voice heard o'er the plains,
Beckons those in search of crowns
To come and stake their claim.
The voice they hear is of a Maiden
So fair and pure of heart.
Blinded by lust for fame and glory,
They follow it into the dark.
When they find her there in the wood
Neath a dead oak tree.
Their lust turns to dread as they realize
Things are not as they seemed.
The Maiden gone, a gray Old Lady
Stands before them in shadows dark a coals.
Though they try to escape with all their might,
Her magic steals their souls.
She lets the soulless body wander
Back from whence it came.
The soul she steals brings back her beauty.
For a moment she regains
Her Auburn hair, Her radiant voice,
Her charm and all her glow.
She becomes the Maiden that once was loved
And the Villagers used to know.
So beware the Old Gray Lady, my son,
Who lives by the dead oak trees.
And do not listen to the voice you hear
That floats like gentle breeze.
Many men have sought and failed
To escape her voodoo charms.
And many more will lose their dreams
By running into her arms."
My father said to me,
"Beware the Old Gray Lady
Who lives by the dead oak trees.".
As only a little boy could be
So curious was I.
Without hint of hesitation
I boldly asked him "Why?".
My father stopped along the path
And quietly took a knee.
He paused for just a moment
And then began to speak.
"Long ago, before my time,
There lived a beautiful maiden.
Her head adorned with Auburn hair
And with a crown of jewels was laden.
The people in the nearby Village
Oft heard her in Fall nights,
As she would practice magic
Neath the glow of pale moonlight.
The maiden was loved by those who knew
Her warm and tender heart,
While others called her wicked;
A sorceress of dark arts.
One day a man came from the North
With golden forked tongue.
He spoke of marriage to the Maiden.
With his words her heart, he won.
The vows were said, the contract sealed,
The Maiden's head dethroned.
The man took the crown for himself
And left the Maiden heartbroken and alone.
The beauty of the Maiden
Faded into night.
She became withered and worn.
Her hair faded to white.
On Hallow's Eve she took her revenge
Against the man, her crown, he stole.
She cast him out of the Village
And banished him to the cold."
"What happened to her?" I asked my father
As quiet filled the twilight.
I suddenly felt a hint of fear
In the quickly fading light.
"Some say she died of a broken heart
Her body turned to dust.
But those in the Village warn she hunts
For victims in their lust.
They say on cold Autumn nights
A voice heard o'er the plains,
Beckons those in search of crowns
To come and stake their claim.
The voice they hear is of a Maiden
So fair and pure of heart.
Blinded by lust for fame and glory,
They follow it into the dark.
When they find her there in the wood
Neath a dead oak tree.
Their lust turns to dread as they realize
Things are not as they seemed.
The Maiden gone, a gray Old Lady
Stands before them in shadows dark a coals.
Though they try to escape with all their might,
Her magic steals their souls.
She lets the soulless body wander
Back from whence it came.
The soul she steals brings back her beauty.
For a moment she regains
Her Auburn hair, Her radiant voice,
Her charm and all her glow.
She becomes the Maiden that once was loved
And the Villagers used to know.
So beware the Old Gray Lady, my son,
Who lives by the dead oak trees.
And do not listen to the voice you hear
That floats like gentle breeze.
Many men have sought and failed
To escape her voodoo charms.
And many more will lose their dreams
By running into her arms."
