A mile or so outside of town,
At end of River Road,
There sits a shack all broken down,
A yard that's never mowed.
The kids all say a witch lives there,
Is only seen at night,
With wrinkled face and scraggly hair,
In shadow of moon's light.
One summer day I got my pole,
Decided to go fishin',
A mess of perch, I'd eat 'em whole,
Is what I was a wishin'.
Down River Road, I was a funnin',
Til I neared her shack,
Then my feet, they took off runnin',
I never did look back.
I tripped and fell just past her place,
My ankle, I felt pain,
I heard a noise, then saw her face,
The tears my face did stain.
She said, "My dear, you'll be all right,
I'm here to care for you,"
I must admit, a fearful fright,
Of what to me she'd do.
She helped me to her little house,
A hobblin' on one leg,
All the while, scared little mouse,
Was ready to her beg.
She laid me on her quilted bed,
Beside oak rocking chair,
Not another word was said,
As stroked my matted hair.
How long I lay, I do not know,
Because I fell asleep
To sounds of rocking to and fro,
As she made not a peep.
I awoke in dark of night,
When heard my mother's voice,
"Where is my son, is he all right?"
Within I felt rejoice.
I was carried to the chevy,
And laid upon back seat,
Down the road from river levee,
And perch I did not eat.
"You are so kind, we thank you so,"
I heard my mother say,
"But now it's time for us to go,
It's been a trying day."
"I'd like to ask one question though,
If you do not mind,
Then I promise that we'll go,
Again, you've been so kind."
"Have you children of yourself?
You seem so motherly,
I saw no photos on the shelf,
At least none I could see."
She said, "My son has golden hair,
A twinkle in his eye,
With all my heart for him I'll care,
Until the day I die."
To nearby knoll, she turned her head,
A small white cross was there,
"Can't you see him?" is what she said,
"My son with golden hair."
[This message has been edited by Mike (edited 12-01-1999).]