I know a Faerie Castle,
I call it 'Xanadu',
Of course it looks quite haunted,
Just as Faerie Castles do.
The drawbridge is in splinters,
The moat is almost dry,
The battlements are crumbling,
Staring stark into the sky.
There's ivy with long tendrils
Creeping round the old, stone walls,
And faces peering strangely out
From long forgotten halls.
I creep up to my Castle,
I see them crouching there,
The misty Wraiths, with flashing eyes,
And ghostly, floating hair.
Yet sometimes when I take a look
My Castle fades from view,
But that's because it's Faerie,
And it hides in 'Xanadu'.
by
Shirley Frances Winskill 1989
