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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The old rusty gate hasn’t opened of late Nor has it for so many years The padlocks are seized and it’s overgrown state Compounds our irrational fears For when there’s a moon that is three quarters full And the breeze makes the leaning oak moan The gate remains closed but nobody can tell What causes its hinges to groan Tis said it’s a hundred years on from the day That a lass countered her suitor’s plan ‘I’m not gonna do that, young man, young man I’m not gonna do that, young man’ And the gate started creaking although it was locked And my family’s torment began ‘You won’t take my virtue, young man, young man You won’t take my virtue, young man’ Tis told that a vagrant had witnessed the deed And the lass should have shut up and ran ‘I’m gonna tell Daddy, young man, young man I’m gonna tell Daddy, young man’ The man took her virtue then throttled her there Her body was quickly dissected He crossed himself once as he padlocked the gate The vicar’s son quickly suspected Such ancestral shame and a dishonoured name My guilt is a family trait To find out the truth is the reason I came So I reach for that old rusty gate A brisk breeze this night, three quarter moonlight A young girl ethereal white ‘I wouldn’t go that way, young man, young man I wouldn’t go that way, young man’ ‘No blame can there be for what happened to me You were not there to see nor agree But please place a stone with my name, Sarah Lee Under that old leaning tree.’ The oak ceased its moaning, the hinges stopped groaning She vanished but left me a plan ‘Go live your life freely, young man, young man Go live your life freely, young man’ 24 June 2022 Contest: One In Five Sponsor: Joseph May
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