They always liked Charlie.

Charlie was tall and, good looking.
The quarterback of our high school team.
That one of us whose life was perfect;
The Guy in the arms of the homecoming Queen.

Until of course, that fatal day.
The senior trip none can forget.
They took us all by bus to Rye.
Where ten of us had come to die.

Charlie was a moody sort.
We saw him on the rides alone.
The Queen was with her brand-new Prince.
His highness, Charles, had been dethroned.

It happened as the day wound down
Just before the bus would take us home.
Charlie emerged from the tunnel of Love
Curiously, he was alone

Back in the darkness of the ride
The tunnel of Love was filled with smoke
We heard our classmates muffled screams,
Like dammed souls devoid of hope.

In all ten died that horrible day
Several others suffered smoke inhalation
The tunnel of Love was a substandard ride;
A deathtrap disguised as an assignation.

There was of course an investigation.
Some evidence of arson had been found.
Curiously, no one was ever arrested
The cops  all said “insufficient grounds.”

But they always liked Charlie