Wae's me, wae's me,
The acorn's not yet
Fallen from the tree
That's to grow the wood,
That's to make the craddle,
That's to rock the bairn
That's to grow a man
That's to lay me.

Poem written by a poltergeist, reprinted from Sacheverell Sitwell 'Poltergeists - Fact of Fancy'

 

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