A lady named Cecily roams the streets,
Her hands stained with mud, fingers caked with dirt,
Her fragile figure wrapped in bloodied sheets,
Her voice breaks in quiet sobs filled with hurt.
Sweet Cecily was a beautiful maiden,
She was the youngest out of seven,
Bestowed with hair as black as a raven,
And a voice as tempting as a Siren's.
She lived somewhere in the outskirts of town,
Visited the village to sell her mother's pies.
She walked timidly with her head bowed down,
For she didn't like the stares of some curious eyes,
But a lady as beautiful as she,
Cannot be unnoticed by men you see,
So, one night, while passing a dark alley,
She vanished with her cries of agony.
Poor Cecily was never seen once more,
Now she haunts the silent streets at night,
Her deadly beauty luring men to her door,
As she kisses them a frightful goodnight.
