My outside is a pristine white, a prim and proper house,
I wear it as the maiden wears her chaste, angelic blouse.
But underneath a maiden may not be all that she seems,
The way a metal is not gold, just because it gleams.
I’ve set here snugly on this spot four hundred years or so,
They say a house was here before but I don’t really know.
It matters not, for I’m the one that people talk about,
I’m the Mains Hall shining star, of that there is no doubt.
The Hesketh clan that lived here first was Cath’lic through and through.
The priest hides in the fireplace wall an unmistaken clue
That certain protestants who came were not too welcome here,
Whose treatment of these very priests was crass and cavalier.
So many years ago it ‘twas, the Prince of Wales was wed
To Maria Fitzherbert for a short time it was said.
Enough of these old things I think, let’s move on to today,
For as you enter this staid hall, take heed to what I say.
A fine hotel you think I am, you’re eas’ly fooled by paint.
A peaceful, quiet, restful place is something that I ain’t.
When Lily tops the grand staircase with hollow, glowing eyes
Some guests pack up and quickly leave with trembling goodbyes.
The Cavaliers of Charles the First, the Roundheads of the war,
Gather oft to scare the crowd, along with many more.
Lords and ladies waft about and even children too,
Some ghostly gath’rers in the hall, to highlight just a few.
So see my paint has fooled you all, I’m not quite what I seem.
I’m more at home at midnight ‘midst the moonlight’s eerie gleam.
The ghosts of those that filled my past now fill my rooms and halls,
And if you listen very hard you’ll hear their mournful calls.
Bronze trophy winner
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