They Would Not Let me In

by

Wesley A. Storer

There is a ghost of very great renoun
Of a pretty frulein from old Berlin town
A Dead baby beneath her sorrowing frown
She was abandoned in the winter of 1933
On a frigid and freezing Christmas Eve
By her Russian lover on a vodka spree
She gave birth on that cold sacred night
Behind a coal heap in fear and fright
Went door to door to save the baby's life
From the freezing wind's killing might
But her reputation was sullied it seems
By horrible stories of her previous deeds
The best intentions of those Communist men
Would not grant consent to allow her in
From her fearful and perilous plight
She froze with her baby in her arms
To the concern of no one's great alarm
Her ghost is seen on crisp Christmas Eves
To people she likes she merely screams
"They would not let me in!"
To drunkards she gives blood curdling shrieks
And they die from freezing shakes in the street
There in the icey frozen street at her feet
If Christmas finds you in that forlorn place
Fear that Frulein in her red frosty lace
With frozen tears for her baby on her face

NEXT?
Why don't you look at To day
by: Christopher R. Harper
from: Lafayette, CA, US

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