Bette

Bette the Banshee

Little Bette was a Banshee she'd wander the gloom
An omen of death desperation and doom
She'd wander the village and some nights she'd cry
If the next day someone was supposed to die

She had these strange visions of those who would die
And would set out to find them and utter her cry
The people all feared her but she wasn't mean
Her scream was to tell them all what she had seen

A skull for a head with long golden curls
She wished she could look just like the living girls
Instead all she had was her burial dress
A lost little spirit who'd never been blessed

Her dress was all muddy a dirty white cotton
Her skin was all dirty dry and rather rotten
And although quite cute in a frightening way
The locals would all scream and run far away

Sometimes she got lonely all on her own
And wished she was living and had a nice home
But deep down she knew this was how it would be
"Forever." She whispered. "No one but me."

But sometimes when the mood struck her just right
She delighted in giving the locals a fright
She'd shriek through their windows she'd rattle their doors
And to really scare them she'd float straight through the walls

So don't feel too bad for poor little Bette
Just be thankful that you and her never met
But listen quite closely and don't think it a dream
If one night, too soon you hear Little Bette scream.