The Haunted House


Every town has got a house,
That people say is haunted;
And every year at Halloween,
The townsfolk proudly flaunt it.

Our town was like the others,
We had a house like that,
But it was not a haunted mansion,
It was a haunted house out back.

Aw ... come on ... a haunted outhouse,
I think you joke, my friend;
No, no, I truly speak the truth,
This is how the tale begins.


First off, you know what an outhouse is,
They came from days of yore;
Before indoor plumbing came along,
Folks had to go outdoors.

As life progressed, down through the years,
Someone built a tiny shack;
For privacy and sanitation,
They placed it out in back.

While that was a vast improvement,
There were better things to come,
When an enterprising fellow,
Discovered how to plumb.


He invented plumbing fixtures,
Brought facilities inside;
Old outmoded outhouses,
Then were cast aside.

Most everybody trashed his,
Except one sentimental soul,
Who saved the old shack out in back,
Though he covered up the hole.

The Historical Society,
Deemed it a National Treasure,
And they moved it to a local park,
For folk's aesthetic pleasure.


First the townsfolk scoffed and laughed,
'Til they found a young designer,
Who took a palette and a paintbrush,
And made their outhouse even finer.

He drew a yellow, crescent moon,
Upon the outhouse door,
And put some stars upon its roof,
And then he added more.

A dog and cat on front and back,
And some flowers, birds, and bees;
And vertically upon each side,
He painted shrubs and trees.


Aha!  A thing of beauty now!
People looked at it with pride;
But, the morning after Halloween,
They found it lying on its side.

How could this happen?  What took place?
People were disturbed;
The next Halloween the house was found,
Tipped over at the curb.

Rumors started flying,
Someone claimed he saw it move;
Others jokingly said, "Gremlins,"
But no person really knew.

So, they posted guards at Halloween,
Which had absolutely no effect,
Because each morning ever after,
It still was moved from where it set.


They held an Old Town Meeting,
They called experts to the scene,
Who analyzed and measured,
Then blamed it all on Halloween.

Again the townsfolk were upset,
For that news was most unwanted;
To think their treasured monument,
Was an outhouse that was haunted.

Well, the outhouse still is moved,
Each year on Halloween;
Still no one knows how-so it goes,
For no one's ever seen!

~ Virginia Ellis ~
Copyright 2000

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