Tag Archives: ghosts

As I Walk Through the Graveyard on Halloween

As I walk through the graveyard on Halloween
I shall think on how witches and ghouls
Are only by fools
Seen.

The learned well understand
That there is no ghostly hand
To their progress stop
As they pass the graveyard plot.
Yet I shall quicken my pace
Just in case …

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There Was A Young Lady Called Anna

There was a young lady called Anna
Who lived in a haunted manor.
A ghost named White
Sang at night
In a most delightful manner …!

There was a young lady called Anna
Who lived in a haunted manor.
A ghost named Ria
Filled her with fear
So she left that haunted manor!

There Was A Young Lady Called White

There was a young lady called White
Who died one bleak midnight.
When she entered my room
In the depths of the gloom
I received a terrible fright!

There was a young lady called White
Who died one bleak midnight.
When she entered my room
In the depths of the gloom
I said”please, turn on the light!”.

There was a young lady called White
Who died one bleak midnight.
When she entered my room
In the December gloom
I said “is that you, Miss White?”

There was a young lady called White
Who died one bleak midnight.
My good friend Jane
Does maintain
That she haunts her house at night!

There was a young lady called White
Who died one bleak midnight.
The drink making me brave
I slept on her grave
But I didn’t see Miss White!

Ghosts

Some see shapes gray
And say
“They are ghosts”.
Others perceive
Only bedposts
And grieve
For the naive
Fool
Who does believe
In spooks
And ghoul.

The rationalist takes refuge in books
But, on a dark night,
When the electric light
Fails
Even the sceptic sometimes pales
At the unexplained draft
Or shadows on the walls.
As he recalls
Nursery tales.
“I am daft”
He will say,
While fervently praying for the coming of day.

Come Halloween

Come Halloween, I shall hide behind gravestones
And rattle artificial bones,
And should anyone ask
Why I perform this task
I shall with a blood curdling groan
Confess That I have no bones of my own …

Another Ghost

Another ghost.
Another mocking toast,
How the hands of the clock do turn,
Never to return
To the point before
That particular door
Was unhinged by me.
I see
A procession of sweet ghouls
That call on fools
To follow
Them to the place where the hollow
Slink
Along
And The song of love is told
By the chink
Of gold.

Uneventful

All was still in the church.
No lurch
Of sudden fear
To chill
My heart
As I passed the stones where the dead sleep.
Should I create, for the sake of art
A devil with horn?
No, I am forlorn
For this year
Neither scheming demon
Nor the obscene
Fingers of the dead
Troubled my boring Halloween!