Anne Naylor Anne Naylor


Of late a small ceramic cat with a blue head

Has taken refuge in our house

It appears to be spooked

And often hides in dark corners

It is a silent unassuming cat

But has now told me its woeful story

I was the cat of young Anne Naylor

Who was apprenticed to a mother and daughter

They owned a hat making shop

But were a murderous pair of demons

Who finally after much cruelty killed poor Anne

They then baked me in an oven

But I was able before I died

To enjoy my last icy London morning

Hence the detail of my person

They dissected Anne but spared me

We were both hidden in an open sewer

Until we were discovered in gruesome detail

By a shocked watchman passing

My owner was given a Christian burial

But her soul was left behind

I was soon buried in the foul mud

We shared this terrible grave for many years

Until the underground railway was built

Anne and I were disturbed greatly

That is when the famous hauntings began

Anne’s endless screams and my odd appearance

She is at rest now or at least sleeping beneath the tracks

But will return and her screams will again haunt

Farringdon Station

There is no room for me

Mine is an extinguished haunting

So I have taken to the road

And that is the reason

That I am now here

A baked ceramic cat

With an ice blue head