The Banshee
By: Christopher Bice

In the pubs he'd tell his tales,
Of how life changed when he furled his sails.
All his life he spent on the seas,
That's where he'd heard stories of wild Banshee.

He'd heard the stories of Banshees, up in the hills,
That's where old sailors' fears are fulfilled.
Now in the pubs he tells his tales,
Of terrible Banshees and their fearful wails.

Walking at night he ventures home,
He's walking the hills, he's all alone.
Finally at home, he quickly tries his key,
Still fearing the tales, of the old Banshee.

Tripping over the sill he ends up on the ground,
Looking up the stairs, the Banshee stares down.
He hears that fearful scream,
He's wishing that it's just a dream.

The hairs on his neck have started to rise,
All he can see are those murderous eyes.
She flies down the stairs and begins the attack,
He has no way of fighting back.

Something is swinging, it pounds his head,
His last thoughts are of dying, he believes he is dead.
When morning arrives and he's survived the night,
There's no longer a Banshee anywhere in sight.

He sees his wife descending the stair,
Something in her eyes appears familiar there.
All the stories he tells, could they be true,
Is there a Banshee living at home with you?

Tell your Wife you'll give up the drink,
And this tall tale will end with her knowing wink.

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