There is a story that is told,
about a ghost that haunts 'round here.
The town's people avoid the woods,
out of respect, but mostly fear.
It's said that when the air turns cold,
enough to see your icy breath,
and forest trees don snowy coats,
she comes, a harbinger of death.
She was in life a lady fair,
a kind and gentle soul was she.
A stranger came and stole her heart,
he told her they were meant to be.
So happy, 'till then came the day,
the stranger left and broke her heart.
She took her wagon to give chase,
from him she couldn't bear to part.
She didn't notice stormy skies,
or that her horse stirred nervously.
She left wearing her thinnest cloak,
distraught, not thinking logically.
Then far from town, lost in the woods,
her wagon wheel had broken down.
Her horse had bolted out of fright,
snow piled high, ice on the ground.
She froze to death there where she sat,
she died, her heart was filled with ire,
as the stranger held another,
both warmed by a roaring fire.
Her spirit wanders in the woods,
still calling out the strangers' name.
If anyone sets eyes on her,
another life she'll surely claim.
Her vengeful spirit cannot rest
until the stranger joins her there.
But he died many years ago,
his punishment, now others bear.
There is a story that is told,
about a ghost that haunts 'round here.
The town's people avoid the woods,
out of respect, but mostly fear.
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