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.
