Creepy poems

Scary poems for you

Hangman's Noose



They hanged John Farrell till he was dead
At dawn in the marketplace;
At dusk the Hangman walked up to him
And spat upon his face.

"Just take a look," the Hangman cried,
"Behold, John Farrell's fate!
"It's proven here the hangman's noose
Is stronger than man's hate!

For you all heard John Farrell's vow
To take revenge on me.
But now in death, see how he hangs
high on the gallows tree!"

Yet never a word the people spoke,
in fear and shocked surprise,
For the grisly corpse raised up his head
And stared with sightless eyes.

And with strange motions, slow and stiff,
He pointed and the crowd did gasp
As he clambered down the gallows tree,
the noose clutched in his grasp.

With his mouth agape, the Hangman stood
like a statue made of stone,
Till the dead man laid a clammy hand
hard on his shoulder bone.

The Hangman shrieked like a soul in hell;
The blood drained from his face
He turned and ran, in fear of his life
through the screaming marketplace;

And close behind, the dead man came,
His face a seething, pallid mask,
The dead arms cracked and stiff legs creaked
As they performed their final task.

The townsfolk fled from the fearsome sight
And they hid and held their breath,
For they saw the terror in the Hangman's eyes
As he was singled out by death.

He tripped and fell, got up again,
And on and on he fled;
So through the empty marketplace,
The dying man fled the dead.

At the river's bank, the Hangman fell
with a scream that rent the skies;
Across him fell John Farrell's corpse,
Never again to rise.

The Hangman's body bore no wounds,
But his brow was cold and damp.
The fear of death snuffed out his life
Like the wind blows out a lamp.

Upon his lips, a horrid grin.
His eyes were black as coals.
The men that saw his face that day,
Say the sight still haunts their souls.

The Hangman found such a fitting end,
a strange, unearthly fate;
For stronger than death or a hangman's noose
Is the force of a dead man's hate.




Seeing Things


I'm not afraid of snakes, or toads, or bugs, or worms, or mice,
The things that girls are scared of, I think are awful nice.
I'm pretty brave, I guess; And yet I hate to go to bed,
For, when I'm tucked up warm and snug and when my prayers are said,
Mother tells me "Happy dreams!" and takes away the light,
And leaves me lying all alone and seeing things at night.

Sometimes they're in the corner, sometimes they're by the door,
Sometimes they all just creep and crawl across the bedroom floor;
Sometimes they come when I'm asleep, sometimes when I'm awake
So softly and so silently, they make me scream and shake.
Sometimes they are as black as ink, and other times they're white
But color makes no difference when you're seeing things at night.

Once, Mother caught me being bad, fighting in the street,
And Father sent me up to bed without a bite to eat.
I heard some noises in the dark and up my ears did prick
Those things were gathered all around and planning something sick.
I was so very scared that time, I got an awful fright
It's always when I'm bad that I start seeing things at night.

Lucky thing I'm not a girl, or I'd be scared to death.
Since I'm a boy, I duck my head and then I hold my breath.
When I hear something horrible, crawling up the stairs
I promise to be better and I always say my prayers.
I'm certain that's the only way that I can make it right
When I've been very wicked and start things at night!

And so, when other evil kids tempt and coax me into sin,
I try to squash the devil's voice that urges me within.
At night the things creep closer and they aren't very nice,
They want to eat me up without even thinking twice!
Eventually these evil things will drag me out of sight
I hope I don't keep doing wrong, and seeing things at night!




Willow Garden


Down in the willow garden
My true love and I did meet,
And there we sat a-courting
My love fell off to sleep

I had a bottle of burgundy wine
My love, she did not know
And there I poisoned that dear little girl
Down by the banks below

I drew my knife right through her heart,
It was a bloody night.
I threw her in the river then,
It was a dreadful sight.

My father always told me
That money would set me free
If I did murder that dear little girl
Whose name was Rose Connelly

Now he sits by his old cabin door
And he's wiping his tear-brimmed eyes
He's mourning for his only son
Out on the scaffold high.

I've travelled the world over,
And I knew someday I'd go.
To where the fires are burning,
Down in hell below.

My race is run beneath the sun
And the devil's now waiting for me
For I did murder that pretty little girl
Whose name was Rose Connelly.




The Hearse Song



Don't ever laugh when a hearse goes by,
You just might be the next to die
They'll wrap you in a big white sheet
From your head down to your feet.
They'll throw you in a big black box
And fill your grave with dirt and rocks.
And there you'll lie for about a week,
Until your coffin springs a leak.
The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,
The worms play pinochle on your snout.
They'll eat your ears, they'll eat your nose,
They'll gobble your fingers and your toes.
But then a great big rat will come
Crawl in your mouth and out your bum.
Your skin will turn a sickly blue,
Your brains will melt and turn to goo
You spread them on a slice of bread,
And that's what you eat when you are dead.