Once upon a lonely hill,
There stood a house with painted doors,
A box beneath the window sill,
A view across the moors.
I made a promise once to buy
That god-forsaken patch of hell.
And now, however hard I try,
I can’t escape its spell.
My love was born a wild thing,
Whom no-one could domesticate,
But duty and a broken wing
All but sealed her fate.
She saw the house and fell in love
With wooden floors and chimney piece.
Now all the gods and saints above
Can’t give her mind release.
The owner had agreed a price,
But money’s not the real cost
And neither prayer nor sacrifice
Can give back what I lost.
Each in turn, we play our roles
And families and homes collapse.
The landlords of our broken souls
Refuse to fix the taps.
The house, it stole my lover’s heart
And slowly wore her smile away
Until she bid her soul depart,
Her body to decay.
And when the night grows black as sin,
They say her ghost remains there still,
For weeping can be heard within
The house upon the hill.