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...Sharon’s curiosity was peaked
By the news of Harry’s pain.
She figured the hill had something to do
With keeping poor Harry sane.
But why he would dance up there alone,
She was truly at a loss.
Until she hired a medium,
A psychic at discount cost.

That night she went out to the hill
The medium at hr side.
The psychic gasped in utter shock,
Wide went the woman’s eyes.
She said,”Thank you for calling,
And sharing your quest with me.
Grab my hands and for a spell
You will see what I can see.”

Sharon grabbed her hand, and nearly shrieked
At what on the hill unfurled:
Crazy Harry dancing in the arm arms
Of a blond-haired, shimmering girl.
Sharon could make no sense of it
Make no sense of what she saw,
Her mind rebelled a the mere sight,
It broke every natural law.

But Harry paused, and look their way,
So did the ghost Helen too.
They smiled once and he explained
The truth that they both knew:
Helen had said on her death-bed
She would see him soon again,
Cause without Harry by her side
She refused to enter Heaven.

Sharon nodded, the medium too,
And they left the lovers alone.
Sharon returned to her own house
And told it all to her husband, Owen.
Whether he believed she couldn’t say,
At least he never laughed.
She told non other, because she knew
They’d point and call her ‘daft.’

Years they passed and the ages claimed
Crazy Harry for the grave.
He died dancing atop his hill
In the early part of May.
He had no money for a tomb,
But Sharon paid for his stone,
And smiled because Harry and Helen
Had finally made it home.

The town still sees him as a loon
But Sharon never will.
And once a week she brings Owen up
To dance upon that hill.
And if you find her on that crest
Be sure to take the chance,
To ask her if she’ll tell the tale
Of why Crazy Harry danced.
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