Posted on Wednesday, 31 October 2007
It was a dark and stormy night
(As fell tales must begin aright)
When a scream echoed through the dark
(One would hardly expect a lark).
The residents of Mansfield P.
(Did you think ’twould be Pemberley?)
All clutched at their chests in horror
(Perhaps another’s in ardor?).
'Tis fact, indeed ev'ryone knew
(How fast and thick the rumors flew!)
Henry sought Fanny for his wife
(In Shakespeare's words, "a barful strife").
Sir Thomas had thought all went well
("Ne'er count your chickens," old wives tell);
The hue and cry now proved him wrong
(Else this would be a most short song).
Swiftly they gathered in the hall
("Gather 'round, folks! Come one, come all!")
Oh, what a scene there met their eyes
(Aunt Bertram fainted from surprise).
Henry, who screamed, was deathly pale
(Quel feat for one swarthy and hale).
Fanny hovered off to one side
(Had she slid in shadow to hide?).
Cried Henry, "Your niece is a ghost!"
(She'll ne'er be the officers' toast.)
"Tried to kiss her and caught thin air!"
(M. and J. gave Fanny a glare)
She gave a gasp, then blinked right out
(Even Aunt Norris could not doubt).
If Fan was dead, then how? and where?
(Was she mould'ring 'neath some lost stair?)
Henry and Mary searched like fiends
(Others helped when "they had the means").
Fanny 'neath baize curtain was found
("A waste of cloth," Aunt Norris frowned).
The shocks of the day were not through
(Misery loves company, too).
Mary went to Ed's arms and cried
(So she might seem herself beside)
A green thread 'round his neck he wore
(Odd adornment for such a bore!).
Long had she wondered; now she "slipped"
(Thread in her hand quite firmly gripped).
It flew free and off his head came
(Wonder is a dangerous game).
Behold! Edmund was deceased, too
(Our body count is up to two).
The full moon emerged from its shroud
(Fancy name for a ragged cloud).
Young Tom threw back his head and howled
(Obligingly, a black cat yowled).
How fast and thick his hair did grow
(Talk about five o'clock shadow)...
And now a wolf snarled in his place
(Only mother could love that face).
The Crawfords swiftly backed away
(They forgot their wolfbane today),
Then froze as Miss Maria laughed
(A sound that could out-chill a draft).
She smiled, her fangs gleaming blood red
(One more Bertram joins the undead).
"Do stay. I don't mind in the least."
(Poor Rushworth had been her last feast)
The shocks were only halfway done
(Let's rub our hands and have some fun).
Aunt N as banshee was revealed
('Twas never actually concealed).
On the couch where Lady B. lay
(And did nothing, day after day),
A lazy ghoul reclined at ease
("Come this way and be eaten, please.").
A Gytrash panted on the rug
(Readers, had you forgotten Pug?).
Sir Thomas hugged a blood-stained axe
(Someone had got their forty whacks).
Julia now pulled off her skin
("I told you, Henry: she looked thin!")
And began a skeleton dance
(In- and succubus stood no chance).
Amid the dead, what could they do?
(They had no funds for silver Loo.)
The Crawfords fled into the night
(And found the oubliette stage right).
Mansfield had a glad (n)e'er after
(Harken to their eerie laughter).
And so, my friends, my tale is through
(With stanzas numb'ring twenty two).
The End