A little something for Halloween

I was dared by a friend to turn this famous "true" story into a ballad. This is the result. Sleep well.

Listen to The Vampire of Croglin

1) 

As Charlie's reign draws to its end,

a fable rather strange

begins its haunt at the Low Hall

that's known as Croglin Grange.

Two brothers and a sister lease

this Hall that's near the church.

The graveyard's old; the stones are worn,

and there the phantoms perch.

2)

One night, the winds are high and howl

around the sister's room,

and from her window she can see

some movement in the gloom.

Two points of light, red fire aflame,

flit swift from tomb to tomb.

Afraid, she shuts the casement tight

and draws back in her room.

3)

And, as she swoons upon her bed,

wracked by foreboding plain,

she spies those self-same points of light

at her dark window pane.

A scratch upon the glass appalls

and pins her to her bed.

The beast outside, to entry gain,

unpicks the window's lead.

4)

A pane falls in, a finger long

creeps in and lifts the latch.

And through the window wide it slinks,

its victim now to catch.

It stands up, tall and thin and dark,

its face a shrivelled brown.

its eyes glow red and, to her bed, 

it holds its victim down.

5)

And into her poor throat all white

its fangs it deftly sinks

her roseate blood it trickles out

as Croglin's vampire drinks.

The brothers hear her screams and burst

into the sister's room.

The girl it drops and, whence it came,

flies out into the gloom.

6)

 The sister lives, though wounded sore.

Her neck the brothers bind.

They send her off to Switzerland

for health of mien and mind.

A few months pass, the girl returns

to Croglin's haunted hall.

She takes her chambers back again

to bilk the vampire's thrall.

7)

Yet, when the next the winds are high,

and red lights show their gleam

once more at sister's window pane,

she straightway starts to scream.

The brothers enter, pistols cocked

and see the vampire's frame.

A bullet fired into its leg

renders the monster lame.

8)

Across the grounds it limps and flees

towards the churchyard near.

And close behind, the men pursue,

no longer slaves to fear.

They find a stone all cracked and rent.

Beneath, a coffin old

its lid part off, the fiend within

all rank and all a-mould.

9)

A stake is driv'n; a spade is raised

and slices off its head

and, by the morn, the monster's burned

with its foul reign of dread.

Now, when the wind at Croglin's high

by candlelight, it's said

you may still hear the scratching sound

of unpicked window lead.