Attending the Ball of the Dead Accompanied By the Ghost of Rouen
Attending the Ball of the Dead,
Accompanied by the Ghost of Rouen
Who would of guessed your enticing flashing smile;
Ghost of Rouen.
We cut oh! such a dash, swish, splish splash.
Splendid in your gown
fashioned by them riddled by guilt.
Aren’t I the flavour amongst them?
That tells no more tales.
A medium who shares your secrets?
Now hear ye all such fine music,
together hand in hand
we enter the Ball.
Behold gasping with wonderment
one hundred majestic musicians,
summing up from their desire,
enchantment, careless abandonment.
Arrows were they? whistled past your ears,
from upright English bows,
from upright English men.
But now we are set to dance the dance,
as if all time stands still.
What I care this to be the Ball of the dead.
How they chatter and gossip everyone a ghost,
for once bound to the stake
they called you witch.
Pray I ever to seek such contentness
with one such as you, Ghost of Rouen.
Love beckons in this world
nay but the next.
Once a maid in armour now a princess In silken robes.
Spy kings , queens, emperor’s, lords and French barons,
dressed from head to toe in finery.
Mighty armies came and long gone be,
we will dance no more this night,
Ghost of Rouen.
Thank thee, thank aye thank the lord.
What precious times are had?
You with your enticing flashing smile.
Wish me, another invite
by the Ghost of Rouen to the Ball of the dead.
Copyright © Carrington Marshall | Year Posted 2012
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