It's October and time for a ghost poem...
This is the poem of Eva McGrinnShe was first killed in Old Berlin
She died at the sword of Marcher Drone
Withered and naked she died alone
Eva McGrinn walks the hallsShe moans of losts and sometimes crawls
Cries of deceit for which she was scorn
A nasty bitch from the day she was born
Hate and evil is her claim to fameRobbing and murder was her game
Marcher Drone knew her will
And made her his goal that he would kill.
Anger and loathing was her only friendOrphaned and cold, her will wouldn’t bend.
Slutty for money and disease was her life
Marcher Drone gave her his knife.
That was the end of Eva McGrinnWith the news of her death, everyone wins
“Eva didn’t stay dead” the old people say
But rose in America and wanders today.
Carried by horse back across the divideAt the house on the “Springs” she resides
“LIBERTY LIBERTY” She cries at night
Haunting the houses, she feels just right.
Opening doors and creaking while walkingWaking the babies and stammers your talking
She is too restless to reside with kin
She’s the evil maniacal, Eva McGrinn