Dartmoor (Hound of the Baskervilles)
Kay Irvin
A train from London will be here soon
Hooded coach drivers wait, station bound
Arriving passengers number few
Macabre yarns have spun about a hound
The foggy moors are unforgiving
For any wanderer left to night
The house beacon, on the hill, is far
Wailing wind sends ... like briars in flight
Now that dusk is upon us,... listen
'Tis christen louder than steeple bells
Dead of Winter approaches swiftly
As twin daggers, whose fangs slay noels
There is a curse that must be knotted
Moors to the doors of Baskerville Hall
Bloody crux too shall pass with ending
And ghastly landscapes will lastly call
The foggy moors are unforgiving
For any wanderer left to night
The house beacon, on the hill, is far
Wailing wind sends ... like briars in flight
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