The Old Rusty Gate
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
Copyright © Terry Flood | Year Posted 2022
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