The old stately house on the rolling hills
With its walls of sadness roof of thrills
Stood solemnly still in the northerly wind
That swept away its owners’ sins
The cold stone floors now old and faded
Cracked and mostly housed the rodents
The windows creaked and doors they pleaded
To lonesome spirits that often
retreated
Old torn pictures in a cardboard box
Blended old memories grey from the dust
Nameless faces and faceless frames
Hung from walls that once saw fame
The old stately house of a hundred years
They say it birthed a million fears
And melted down a river of tears
That gave it names that hardly cleared
The house of fears muffled in shames
One cold night engulfed in flames
Took tears, secrets, all it contained
They say its glow lit vast terrains
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