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The château is a sight to behold, But terrible tales begin to unfold. Treason, murders, people kept in towers, Villagers too scared, to go out in the dark hours. Joan of Arc lived there as a child, She was gentle meek and mild. With many battles, and the death of Joan, For a short while, the château stood alone. Then, along came new Kings and Queens, The château enlarges from their dreams, Now it stands in a Glory of blue, No more misery and gloom. — Gillian Reid |