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Sit around and stay awhile, as I tell you my story.

Little Jane McSquire held me by my hands,
As she broke the layer of ice on the well.

The well is deep and the harsh winter made it eerie.

She suspected water to be under the ice,
As she dropped me.

I fell, and fell, while Little Jane waited a good five minutes or so,
For me to hit the ground.

Once she never heard me crash,
She walked away, sobbing.

I hit the ground, but my porcelain didn't crack.
But my heart sure did..


Now, everytime someone comes by,
I call "Come Play With Me!".
But they must not hear me,
Because they just run away.

I know this well must be full of spirits,
I hear their moans and cries...
I do wonder if little Jane thought I was broken like these ghosts.

Maybe they were forced down here, too,
But I'll never know.

Iced, Cold, Sore, and Broken,
I still lay down here.

Now the question is;
Do you want to come play with me?