The path home is growing shadows,
As the daylight is getting thin,
Mists creep out across the meadows,
Now that the nights are drawing in.
There’s an old place where no light glows,
Allegedly mired deep in sin,
And I dread its long dark windows,
Now that the nights are drawing in.
Some say they’ve seen an eerie light -
Well, that’s how the rumours begin,
And folk won’t pass that way at night,
Now that the nights are drawing in.
There’s stories of a pallid face,
A ragged shroud, a hungry grin,
So now I run fast past that place,
Now that the nights are drawing in.
Painting - A Figure on a Moonlit Lane by John Atkinson Grimshaw
Verse by Jim Moon
