[1] The man was old and crooked,
Like so many before.
The caretaker of Smuggler’s Perch
And owner of the moor.
[2] Smuggler’s Perch, the manor house.
An unusual name.
It’s said the early crooked men
Were smugglers all the same.
[3] And for their cargo, it is known
They'd shed a lot of blood.
The angry ghosts of murdered souls
Still lingered in the mud.
[4] From son to son the keyrings
were passed from hand to hand.
From grave to grave their names
Were fading faster than the land.
[5] The crooked man, ‘twas said of him,
Resolved to let it die.
The moor was vast and vacant.
To pleas to help, he’d not reply.
[6] The fishing folk all wondered
But never meant to ask
About the noises coming from
The manor house at dusk.
[7] They knew he was unmarried,
No relatives, no child.
But something must reside there
For those voices to be riled.
[8] The crooked man would wander,
With bobbing lamp in front
Across the moors and babble
Things meandering and blunt.
[9] And whilst away the townsfolk
Would swear by God above,
A cry had called from Smuggler’s Perch,
Cries silenced by a thud.
[10] But when they found their courage
And went to source the noise,
Not a sight or signal
Of men, women, girls, or boys.
[11] And when the crooked man saw
The gathered, worried flock
He stared them down and muttered
“Leave us to our Godly work.”
[12] New rumours spread around the
Town of what the man had done.
He found a girl and killed her,
Had her fall instead of run.
[13] Why for the deed conducted?
No single person knew.
‘Twas ever in the minds of those
With Smuggler’s Perch in view.
[14] Soon parcels came in paper
Wrapped with simple thread.
Dark people in deep hooded cloaks
Knocked on the door instead.
[15] There were no visitors who came
To stay at Smuggler’s Perch.
But crooked men aren’t lonely,
Thanks to the skeletons at church.
[16] So why now were there hooded men
Arriving at the door?
With packages both smaller
And heavier than before?
[17] One night, the moon was fullest,
And one small boy had guessed
The crooked man was planning
For his own eternal rest.
[18] He’d heard he slept in coffins
And so he stalked the moors,
Haunted by his victims’ voices
His brother had assured.
[19] So curious and silly,
The boy snuck out at night.
He snuck up to the manor,
If he’d left, he would be right.
[20] The manor’s gates was broken
The gargoyles were gone.
Though lights were lit, 'twere no one
For the light to settle on.
[21] But he heard one voice clearly.
It echoed through the hall.
The soft voice of an elder
To no audience at all.
[22] He followed round the windows,
Legs scraping through the brush.
As tiny blooming petals
Formed the boy began to rush.
[23] The voice was growing further.
So closer he would get.
He found an open window
And through the crack he crept.
[24] The floor had heavy carpet,
The air was thick with dust.
The boy felt near to sneezing,
So the nearby drape he fussed.
[25] The armour by the staircase
Was rusted, ancient fare.
The plants inside the manor
Were dead from lack of care.
[26] The boy followed the voice
To which belonged the crooked man
Until he saw him standing
With a crucifix in hand.
[27] He hid behind the doorway
And for a moment paused.
When he was undiscovered
He peeked between the doors.
[28] The boy saw the crooked man
Standing amongst a crowd.
His lips were trembling more
And now the muttering was loud.
[29] “God’s work be done, my family.
The curse will soon be gone.
I’ve gathered all the pieces
And soon will right this wrong.”
[30] Now looking round the crooked
Man, the boy saw many
Shapes and shades. Figureless and
Yet he counted twenty.
[31] And now he saw the vial
Uncorked, held in his hand.
On knees he kneeled and drank it.
Nevermore did he stand.
[32] The crooked man was bending,
He screamed to be alone.
The lights began to flicker
And scream became a moan.
[33] Outside the boy heard thudding,
The cry as heard before.
Yet now there was a body
Coming through manor door.
[34] Except it was no body.
It had no face or neck.
It had no limbs or muscles
Save for one finger, erect.
[35] It disregarded the boy,
Who now could only cry
To see the wretchedness crawl
Down the hall, then pass him by.
[36] The crucifix was broken.
The shades were gathered round.
The mass had joined the crooked
Man, and in that hall they drowned.
[37] At least, that’s all the boy said
When he came back that night.
He dared not talk about it
Until the morning light.
[38] It was only at noontime
That any of them went.
They daren’t venture further
Without the Lord’s consent.
[39] And when they saw the manor,
The den of crooked men,
They found the doors wide open,
And laughter from within.
[40] The laughter was so horrid
In its pitch and mood,
That half the villagers ran
So that just the bravest stood.
[41] Inside they found no sign of
Anything the boy had seen.
The air was clean, the armour sheened
More than it’d ever been.
[42] But neither did they find the man
They had expected there.
Indeed, they found no body
Not a trace of nail or hair.
[43] Instead, that laugh that echoed
Through the house soon flew away.
It raced over the cliffs and
Seemed to cross the sleepy bay.
[44] The house was burnt to ashes
The villagers agreed.
The ashes thrown to moorland
So none could be received.
[45] Now no old man was crooked,
Like those that came before.
No caretaker of Smuggler’s Perch
No owner of the moor.
[46] Just laughter at the witching hour
Which chased the dogs away.
A strangled, choking, dying laugh,
Until the end of days.