At the Edge of the Wood

I've never been very good at poetry.  Except comic limericks - I can write those!

Young ladies make their way past me
Over dale and stile
Oh, won't you come and lie with me?
Just for a little while.
It is cold, and I am all alone
You will be my queen on gilded throne
As long as you don't go.

Later now, a colder season
Young men ignore the voice of reason
And urge each other to imbibe more
and more, not knowing what's in store
And when they stumble over me
They'll be scared sober, you wait and see.
I am the bones at the edge of the wood
I waited and called to those who passed
Until those drunken, frightened lads
Freed me from my bed of grass.