The House on the Road

There was a strange house near the highway
Made of sun-burned bricks and hay
Covered in soot and all about grey

It stood like a scarecrow
Overlooking the nights cold grip
The door rims are low
The reeds grow like the whip

The neighbors shrug all the time
With an apparition of a tongue tasting some lime
None dare say anything near the house
For the myth was the house could be aroused!

Then came one day a stranger
Untidy, wield, scorched under the sun
Walking wearily, like a lost wanderer
Seeking for some cold water and warmth

The grim reeds stuck to his feet
His face was red with disgrace
And at the house door he sat
Staring at unfriendly staring faces

Thinking he was mocked
He staggered up, made a face
And made straight into the stead
With all dropped jaws and braces

And in the house strange noises came
Rattling, hissing and few groans
The passersby watched on, all the time
Waiting for a monster to emerge with an evil grin

None knew, it was already late
For many who dared stay back
Felt the hands of relatives bidding them to wake
And all prayed the stranger came out without a mark

But then, a face popped out from the window
With a huge grin on the face, he wobbled
“Guess what I found in here fellows
A house full of abandon, rats and liquor!”