I saw an old house, weatherbeaten and cold
On some brown grass, standing on a small hill
Like a flimsy wall, holding up against invaders
Ready to crumble and break after centuries of abuse
With broken and bruised windows,
Like a person who has been unloved for too long
The sagging porch uninviting and unwelcoming
Chasing away all who watn to settle there

But why was the weatherbeaten house on the hill
Unused and unwanted by any and all
Even the vagabonds avoid this dwelling
But what for, remains the unasked question
What is to be avoided in this house that stands on the browned grass hill
Only the whispers of the weatherbeaten house can tell the full story