High up on the hills,
Stood an old Victorian house
built in the Gothic style.
Deserted, it had been
For over a century now.
Ignorant, so it is
To the changes, it is going through.
Glasses all shattered
Yet the panes locked tight.
Brocade curtains clinging
to their fading shine.
Walls hung with faded silks,
Echoing a long monotonous story
of the dynasty that lived.
Dusty old portraits
Swing with the dull song.
The dynasty is long gone,
But the house still stands tall.
