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The Tale Of Old Jack Lorn
by Paul Leaman


Old Jack Lorn
In his bed that night.
Heard a faint noise,
Yet, it was oh so slight.

He was all curled up
Safe in his warm bed,
As he heard the sound again,
He lifted up his head.

And then straining to hear
He paused there for awhile,
Then he lay back down again
He gave a nervous smile.

Then again closing his eyes,
Wanting so to sleep.
He lay there silently
Not so much as a peep.

But, there it was again
Oh what could it be?
So faint, so soft,
Was it some kind of plea?

Now with a slight frown,
He slipped out of bed.
And walked to the window
And looked out in dread.

The night was truly dark
With a strange ghostly glow.
Then, he heard it again,
That awful mournful woe.

"Jack Lorn, Jack Lorn."
Now with eyes open wide.
His heart skipped a beat
As he peered and look outside.

What, who is calling,
Who is calling my name?
"Jack Lorn, Jack Lorn."
Again that same voice came.

Now Jack was very old
And truly some what frail.
And turned from the window
His face turned a little pale.

Oh it's just the wind
Moving something about.
So he turned back to bed,
With just a tinge of doubt.

And covering up his head,
He pulled the blankets tight.
He wanted so to sleep,
'Twas the middle of the night.

Now as he lay there
And turned to his rest.
His heart was beating fast
Within his frail old breast.

Ah, but the same low cry,
"Jack Lorn, Jack Lorn."
Again and again it came,
And it sounded so forlorn.

Old Jack was mad now,
And flung back the sheet.
Turning and sitting up,
And jumped to his feet.

He slipped on his robe
And headed for the door.
There was someone out there
Of this, he could not ignore.

Pulling his robe tight
Against the night air.
Then turning back inside,
Grabbing his shotgun there.

He walked past the barn,
And even down the lane.
He was so determined,
But he searched and searched in vain.

Then it came again,
"Jack Lorn, Jack Lorn."
He stood very still,
By a field of standing corn.

Then, wouldn't you know,
As he stood there that night.
It grew blacker and blacker,
The moon now out of sight.

With his eyes open wide
He could scarce see a thing.
In the depth of the darkness
What dread it did bring.

Now, so very dark,
He could not see the ground.
Though he peered in the blackness
And looked all around,

His knees began knocking,
He was filled with such fright.
Oh what was he doing there,
Out there in the night?

He thought of his wife,
Who died so long ago.
He still missed her voice,
And her pleading so.

"Oh Jack, oh my Jack,
Please believe in my Lord?"
But he would shrug it off,
Her pleading he ignored.

Why would he think of her now,
In the midst of this black night?
Was it now too late to believe?
The thought filled him with such a fright.

Then, in the thick dark blackness,
He thought he heard something new.
Yes, he heard the hooves of a horse,
Coming fast, what could he do?

He trembling, fell to his knees,
And hollered out, "Stop, stop!"
But the beast kept a coming,
So old Jack fired nonstop.

The beast was now upon him,
And from the blast he could see.
The eyes of the horse and it's rider,
They were dreadful, beyond degree.

He was sure the angel of death,
Was mounted on his black steed.
Coming to take him in death,
But alas, he did not succeed.

For as he had come, now he was gone,
And Jack again, heard her gentle plea.
"Jack Lorn, Jack Lorn."
Oh won't you come here with me?

Now still there in the darkness,
His heart full of wonder and fear.
Still trembling with excitement,
Her voice from the past he did hear.

Then, way down the lane,
A light began to appear.
Old Jack, then walking towards it,
And in his eye, came forth a tear.

On the way to the light,
He passed a cross and a open tomb.
He could feel the prayers of his love,
And they smelled as sweet perfume.

"Come thou, blessed of the Lord,
Though your faith was late in coming,
For with all your years of rebellion,
Now to The Lord it's so becoming.

May God truly be glorified
For His patience and His love.
For answering the prayers of loved ones ,
Who are there in Heaven above.


© by Paul H. Leaman
02/13/2007


This writing may be used in its entirety, with credits in tact,
for non-profit ministering purposes.


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