I see you would climb to the top of Grim’s Tower
On Halloween’s eve at the witching hour,
But before you do I would have a word
In the case that you have not the true story heard.
Geoffrey Grim was a solemn and evil man
As grim and unfeeling as any could be.
True he married a maid, but it was but a plan
For her money and power his secreted fee.
The marriage was doomed from the very first days
There were rumors of fights, of violence and tears.
His wife threatened to leave after one of these frays
Taking wealth and power vile Geoffrey’s worst fears.
No one knows how he lured his wife to the Belfry
But on a dark, moonless night she took her last breath.
He claimed a loose railing when she leaned to look over
That was recorded on her record of death.
Geoffrey drew inward soon following the fall,
He was often distracted; something wrong in his head.
He looked to the Belfry as if hearing a call
The voice of a person he knew to be dead.
Each night he would climb the old twisting stairs
He told others to mourn the passage of his wife.
One night he fell from the same Belfry corner
Was it a jump or a push that ended his life?
Tonight when you climb to the top of this tower
You’ll hear whispers I am sure mid the bells constant clangor
Stay away from the railings, the winds have a power
To touch like two hands forced through rage and through anger.