Haworth Nestled deep into Pennine Moors Where Heights Wuthered West Riding of White Rose Jealousy guarded by blackbirds and crows Enshrouded between swales and hollows Look over shoulder something follows Ghosts and ghouls behind you brood Apothecary intake stifles my mood In harshest of severe winters When river banks burst to gloom Three Hardy sisters named Brontë Hatched a nom de plume Currer,Acton and Ellis Bell Formed as water levels did swell Women writers surprise 1800's populace With dashings of feminine grace In death their fame more grew Life taken too early more true Borne from life of drear Fame and fortune found no panacea Now their spirits prowl in adversity Cats and dogs sense extra sensory Shadowy graveyards protected by rooks Beautiful Haworth village of spooks thank you