Mary had a little lamb,
Its fleece as black as night,
It followed her to school one day,
And gave the kids a fright.

Its eyes were dark and hollow,
Its breath a chilling breeze,
Wherever Mary wandered,
It moved with ghostly ease.

She tried to leave it home one day,
But it let out a cry,
A wail that echoed through the halls,
A sound that made them sigh.

The teachers tried to shoo it,
But it just wouldn’t go,
It stalked them through the corridors,
With steps so slow and low.

Mary’s friends grew distant,
Afraid to meet her gaze,
The lamb had cast a shadow,
That turned their smiles to haze.

One night it stood beside her bed,
Its whisper in her ear,
“Mary, dear, come with me now,
There’s nothing left to fear.”

She vanished with the morning light,
No trace of her was found,
But in the school’s old attic,
A mournful lamb’s low sound.

Now they say on silent nights,
You hear its ghostly call,
A warning to the children,
Who wander through the hall.

Mary had a little lamb,
Its eyes a crimson hue,
It trailed her through the village streets,
Its presence darkly grew.

It wasn’t just a simple pet,
But something cold and wild,
With every step it took, it seemed,
To steal away her smile.

She took it to her house one night,
And locked it in her room,
But when she turned, it stood behind,
Emerging from the gloom.

Its bleat was like a sorrowed wail,
That pierced the silent air,
And shadows danced upon the walls,
Like demons in despair.

The neighbors whispered warnings,
Of things that go unseen,
Of how the lamb was something else,
A nightmare, not a dream.

Mary’s parents tried to send it,
To fields where it belonged,
But every time it found its way,
Back to where it thronged.

One stormy eve, the power failed,
The lights flickered and died,
And in the dark, the lamb’s red eyes,
Were all that she could find.

It led her to the forest deep,
Where no one dared to tread,
And there beneath the ancient trees,
It stopped and turned its head.

It spoke in whispers, cold and cruel,
A voice not of this world,
And Mary felt her heart grow faint,
As shadows ‘round her swirled.

When dawn arrived, the search began,
But Mary was not found,
Just hoofprints leading into mist,
Where silence was the sound.

Now tales are told to children,
Of Mary and her lamb,
Of how it came to claim her soul,
From fields where shadows stand.