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High on the hill…it stood,
Bearing the scars of many a year;
The mansion…the old house,
“THE HAUNTED HOUSE”…people whispered in fear.

Oh, many years ago…’tis true,
It stood in regal splendour;
Royalty…’twas said…did visit,
But, that was long ago…when things were grandeur.

Many years had passed,
For time marches on;
The house fell into disrepair,
Its people of wealth…were gone.

New owners came…then, they left,
Hard times fell upon them all;
Big houses no longer the fashion,
Now, people wanted the small.

More years passed by…rapidly,
Oh, how the time did fly;
Even the beautiful garden…overgrown,
Now, people turned away…with a sigh.

Nobody came to the house anymore,
The years…they hurried past;
The house was falling apart…now,
And, it was happening fast.

The shutters hung from the windows,
Shingles fell off of the roof;
Windows were smashed beyond repair,
No wonder the world stood…aloof.

Who first called it “THE HAUNTED HOUSE”,
Of this…I’m not quite sure;
But, the name seemed to fit,
And, the old house would have to endure.

People would they hurried by;
Until the day when we took a walk,
Past the old house…Gramma and I.

Oh, we could have told spooky tales,
And, we could have scared people away;
But, we saw something beautiful,
The house…as it was…in by-gone days.

Yes, this is my story…about,
“THE HAUNTED HOUSE” and it’s new birth,
People began to flock ‘round her,
People now saw her true worth.

They came…now…in great numbers,
Some with paint and some with ladders;
All the house needed was loving care,
To restore the house to the time of their ancestors.

It now took on a new name;
‘Tis called a ‘Heritage House’…now,
Just a little loving care…and that’s what it became!


May 15, 2004

Aimee Love

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Aimee Love