A woman of shear beauty
Her attractiveness being at her duty
She gets any man she wants
Annabelle knows how to taunt
It is the way she walks and talks
Men feel her senses and respond in stalk
Annabelle dresses in expensive long gowns
Her hips are firm and are round
At parties, woman look Annabelle up and down
Yet they never utter any sound
It’s the way men grapple at Annabelle’s feet
Once they see Annabelle men don’t retreat
Annabelle moves every so carefully in her stance
Her good looks and attractiveness with every staring chance
This is how Annabelle’s suggestions advance
Annabelle’s methods in all systems go
Her hips in suggesting just follow my flow
Annabelle’s statement, “Hold on to your man”
I am in control and it’s within my own command
My masterpiece is what you see
It is Annabelle’s canvas that says she.

Who is Annabelle you ask?
Many people really don’t want to know
Then others had said so
Annabelle being an Evil Doll
Where there is Death is toll
Annabelle is a demon doll possessed
Evil comes to where Annabelle lives
It’s destruction in what Annabelle gives
A Pipe ***** plays Annabelle’s song
Her house no one truly belongs
A song of prey and delight
But throughout total plight
Blood being the fuel to **** people more
There is no night and day to explore
A moment no one will be able to ignore
Flesh turning to decay
Scream if you can
Your life could soon end
What will **** Annabelle forever?
A human soul to take
The moon won’t shine tonight
Demon eyes having a target plight
Black covering day and night
Annabelle continues in her terror reign
How long will Annabelle remain?
Faith verses Evil
Victory will be the Faith
Annabelle will soon burn in Hell
It’s a matter of time and a moment of truth that will tell.

Underneath a foreign sky,
we soar, we fly.
The first thing I do
is think of you
when I wake up.

Annabelle,
wash this filth away,
bring the rain.
I'm in no rush to get my
hands ***** again.

Underneath a foreign sky,
we score, we get high.
The first thing I do
is steal from you
when I wake up.

Annabelle,
the sound of your voice
has me wound so tight.
Annabelle,
you stress me out.
Annabelle,
you stretch me
all the way out.

Underneath a foreign sky,
I left my dignity in the dirt
to die.
Pride only gets you hurt, and in
the face of light
I learnt
that I had lost my faith that night.

Annabelle,
you have my blood
and skin under your
fingernails
from the night we set
full sail.

Annabelle,
If you can feel
I'll dig deeper.

Annabelle,
If you're not real
I hope I'm not either.

Miss Annabelle Lee
Such a pretty girl;
Her tall, thin frame
Her long, blonde curls

Miss Annabelle Lee
As light as a feather;
She drifts in the wind
Through the tough, stormy weather

Miss Annabelle Lee
She hates what she sees;
She's melting away
Blowing off with the breeze

Miss Annabelle Lee
Now so frail and so weak;
She needs to be thinner
But her body's calling defeat

Miss Annabelle Lee
Rest in peace, my dear friend;
You got your last wish
Now you're gone with the wind

I'm not good at taking it slow
But I hope you know
Waiting isn't something I do well
But I'll wait for you, Annabelle

So many years since the day
I heard you say
"It's not time for us just yet"
And never did I once forget
That you were out there as well
As I waited for you, Annabelle

Time goes on and so it did
Just like you said
"It's not now or never"
But I said I'd wait forever
In all the time between heaven and hell
I'll wait for you, Annabelle

It's not easy for me to stand
As he takes your hand
But as long as he treats you well
I'll wait for you, Annabelle

For shall we tell'st the mighty tale
    Of the kingdom by the sea.
Where lives there a maiden
    By the name of Annabelle Lee.

For may'st our dearest love penetrate
   The bounds of heaven and sea.
For my clingful heart be always with
   The beautiful Annabelle Lee.

Yet may'st the heavens be'st cruel,
   To part my beloved from me
And leaves but her body afloat in
   A tomb by the surrounding sea.

For may'st maiden and tomb fall beneath
   The shining drowning sea.
Shall upon the seafloor lie but the tomb
    Of the beautiful Annabelle Lee.

For may'st the tides engulf the body
    Of the beautiful Annabelle Lee.
And when thy beautiful flesh deteriorates
    Shall she still be loved by me.

For may'st the crows feast upon the soul,
    Of the beautiful Annabelle Lee.
And leaves me to love the carcass,
    Of what used to be.

Annabelle does sit at play,
In her usual, cheery way.
She does not worry, nor does she fret,
She hasn’t reason to be scared yet.
Then, the seizure overtakes her,
Perhaps caused by a noise, an innocent whir.
“Mom, it’s happening”, she cries,
With her hands she covers her eyes.
“Annabelle, Annabelle, ‘twill all be fine,”
We calmly say, with deep fear inside.
We knew that this was epilepsy,
I wished it wasn’t her, but me.
But she endured the pain and strife,
Now a part of her daily life.
She was strong of heart and head,
Even in her hospital bed.
After a minute, the nausea stops,
And our level of fear gradually drops.
Annabelle returns to her lovely self,
But we know that more seizures will take this sweet, young elf.

‘To bed! To bed!’
Said Sleepy-head;
‘Tarry awhile,’ said Slow;
‘Put on the pan,’
Said Greedy Nan;
‘We'll sup before we go.’
        (from Mother Goose)

They sat at the kitchen table as
The candle flickered low,
And Greedy Nan put on the pan
To indulge her sister, Slow,
While Sleepy Weepy Annabelle
Blotted her book with tears,
And thought of her Beau from long ago
Who she hadn’t seen for years.

‘Why doesn’t Roger notice me,
Why doesn’t Alan Dell?
I’m wearing the dress cut low for me
And I’ve hitched my skirt as well.
I’ve a pretty turn to my ankle, so
You’d think it would drive them wild.’
‘But men are a mystery,’ said Slow,
‘And Alan Dell’s a child.’

While over the pan stood Greedy Nan,
Was cracking a turkey’s egg,
A lump of yeast and a slice of beast
And a single spider’s leg.
With a wing of bat and an ounce of fat
And a toe of frog for the spell,
She needed to turn her sister off
From her crush on Alan Dell.

For Greedy Nan was the eldest girl
And would have to marry first,
The other two would wait in the queue
Or their fortunes be reversed,
The omelette sizzled, and in the pan
She added before they saw,
A piece of some Devil’s Trumpet plant
For the mating game meant war.

She sliced the omelette into half
And she served them up a piece,
‘Didn’t you want?’ said Annabelle
But Slow enjoyed the feast.
‘I’m not that terribly hungry now
I’ve cooked it up in the pan,
I think I’ll just have a slice of bread,’
Said the scheming Greedy Nan.

They finished up and they sat awhile,
And they mused about their fate,
‘If Greedy Nan isn’t married soon,
For us it will be too late.’
‘I’ve set my sights on a country squire,’
Said Nan, without a blink,
Lured them away from her secret fire
To confuse what they might think.

‘The room is woozy, spinning around,
I’d better get me to bed,’
Said Annabelle, while Slow with a frown
Saw Dwarves dancing in her head.
But Greedy Nan was cleaning the pan
To clear all signs of the spell,
Her back was turned to her sisters, spurned
For the sake of Alan Dell.

And when he came in the morning
Greedy Nan was sat by the door,
While Annabelle and her sister Slow
Were lying dead on the floor,
‘I didn’t mean it to **** them, Al,
It was only a simple spell,’
But as he cuffed and led her away
He frowned, did Alan Dell.

David Lewis Paget

Let the mighty tale be told
   Of a newfound city,
Where there lives a maiden
   By the name of Annabelle Lee.

May my love for her penetrate
   The bounds of heaven and sea,
Should my dear little heart love always
   The beautiful Annabelle Lee.

Had our love blossomed once afar
   Where the night as still as can be,
And upon her lips had I planted a kiss,
   For the beautiful Annabelle Lee.

Wherein that Summer had we countless more
   And many wonderful memories,
As I fell in love with the beloved eyes
   Of the beautiful Annabelle Lee.

Yet may the heavens be cruel
   To part my beloved from me,
Brings her to 'tis newfound land
   Leaving me to love what used to be.

Alas the secret is that 'tis tale
   Be'st not that of an Annabelle Lee,
But of a lovely maiden ---- ,
   Who'll be forever special to me.

Twenty-six hours ago, I forgot your name
But I always liked your style and that hasn't changed
Important things have come and important things have gone
But it's the way you talk that keeps me hanging on
I'm still early in knowing you so well
Oh Annabelle, I can tell

There's characters becoming who they are to you
Getting lost in your words and on paper too
Some of them are sirens singing gospel by the stream
Some of them are dying in recurring dreams
I'm still early in knowing you so well
Oh Annabelle, I can tell

The coffee is warm and smells of Christmas Day
The snow falls on the street lights and on our face
The traffic tries to cover up the things you say
But I know how to listen before the wind takes you away
I'm still early in knowing you so well
Oh Annabelle, I can tell

It hasn't been a long time since things sure have changed
Someone else's memories still echo with your name
There's never a good time to start it all again
But until then, once again, I want to be your friend
I'm still early in knowing you so well
Oh Annabelle, I can tell

My father called it the Watching Tree
For it turned, and swivelled to see,
He’d planted its seed in the winter weather
On top of the grave of Annabelle Feather
Who killed their mother for why, whatever,
Then hung from a hawthorn tree.

The hangman never would cut her free
While she spun and spiralled around,
Her eyes a-bulge on the village gallows
In front of the church they call All Hallows,
While urchins jeered to toast marshmallows
As Annabelle stared at the ground.

My aunts in pinafores hung on her feet
To stretch her neck with the rope,
Her tongue stuck out at least six inches
A rigid perch for the garden finches
Who pop the eyes of the one they lynches,
Once they’ve given up hope.

They laid her down in an open grave
The rope wound tight at her throat,
Planted the seeds of the tree above her
Just to remind of the murdered mother
So people be kinder to one another,
Or that’s what my father wrote.

The roots of the tree bored into the skull
Of Annabelle, in through her eyes,
Tendrils of thoughts were left forever
Deep in the well of Annabelle Feather
And sent from her eyes to the tree, whatever,
A poisoner never dies.

So still I call it the Watching Tree
For it waits till I’m not around,
Dropping its poisonous leaves whenever
It’s cold and bleak in the winter weather,
As black as the heart of Annabelle Feather
Stone cold, and dead in the ground.

David Lewis Paget