Where Old Bones Lie

Among the long dead souls I roam
Where grass is lush and overgrown.
Where 'neath the earth 'tis always night
For those forgot and out of sight.
I read the names, familiar now
Of those I've got to know somehow,
And since no records still survive,
I make scenarios of their lives.

Take Thomas Dunn, he was a one.
He had a smile for everyone,
But fared to chance with pretty maids
That got him walloped with a spade
Whilst out one night without the wife,
(It put an end to his short life).
'Tis told the killer remained free
The said 'maid'.... sent to Coventry!

Old Mother Crump was short and plump
And bore a vast, protruding rump.
She helped those gals who, ( led astray )
Soon landed in the family way.
She poked and cut, 'twas just like slaughter
'Til she maimed a rich man's daughter.
No place to hide she took her life
A 'victim' of her own sharp knife.

Miss Mackaverne was strict and stern
Her pupils dare not heed and learn.
Straight laced and pure to one and all
But whisky was to be her fall.
In darkness she'd go out to buy
Large bottles of her favourite rye.
Imbued one night she spooked the cat
Who knocked her flat...and that was that!

Sol Houlihan, a family man,
Rejoiced in his beloved Anne.
He sired a brood of strapping lads
Who lived with morals like their Dad's.
No one suspected his dilemma,
(He wanted to be known as Emma).
Until they found him dead as stone
In Anne's best dress and her cologne.

These ancient tombs in need of care
I ponder in the morning air.
Their mottled fronts with fading words
All soiled on by indifferent birds.
Where old bones lie no tales survive
Just folklore from those still alive.
In truth each grave's a mystery
Old bones can't tell their history.