The Hidey House
Within the woods so bleak there is a light
That shines inside a house as black as pitch
Such troubles there would make for quite a sight
The cobbled walk gives rise to a great fright
As darkness scratches at skin like an itch
Within the woods so bleak there is a light
The beams from upstairs windows pierce the night
The golden threads that tell of tales quite rich
Such troubles there would make for quite a sight
The darkness trembles, rays like some great blight
A patched-up story showing every stitch
Within the woods so bleak there is a light
Great peals of laughter echo in the night
The tales, they say these come from a strong witch
Such troubles there would make for quite a sight
The house has carved itself a deep, dark niche
The light shall disappear as by a switch
Within the woods so bleak there is a light
Such troubles there would make for quite a sight