Two long years, too shortly went,
A man came upon this house,
In the cold and dark, he was bent,
And in the trap, went the mouse.
"I will protect", the house sang,
The old bones buried down.
To the man, something strange rang,
The house seemed like a thorned crown.
Atop the mountain, the next morn,
Screams echoed, heard by none.
The house stood like an icy thorn,
To protect the man, its job done.
Two weeks the man had cried,
Two weeks he plead to be killed,
Two weeks later he died,
For two weeks, the house was thrilled.
The walls painted red again,
The house so lonely stood,
The old bones surfaced again,
In that empty neighbourhood.
The house atop the mountain,
Stood baring against the cold,
Shivered and creaked its walls again,
It dreamt of the days of old.
