Out pops a hand from the grave yard grounds.
Turning heads, round and round.
Terrifying horrific sounds,
And on the top of the mountain stood a fierce greyhound.
Jitter, jatter
Pitter, patter
Down came the rain.
Amongst all, we're the insane.
Dark and dreary were the skies
Creepy, crawling, chilling a new high.
The big birds flew around the trees.
Owls, bats, hawks, seagles how they flee.
Footsteps digging in the grounds
Haunted figures, creeping all around.
Nobody dares to enter this place..
Death is what you must face.
©terrylin53
T