In A/C With Ghosts
You can shuffle and scuffle and scold,
You can rattle the knockers and knobs,
Or batter the doorsteps with buckets of gold
Till the Deputy-Governor sobs.
You can sneak up a suitable plank
In a frantic endeavor to see—
But what do they do in the Commonwealth Bank
When the Big Door bangs at Three?
Listen in the cellars, listen in the vaults,
Can’t you hear the tellers turning somersaults?
Can’t you hear the spectres of inspectors and directors
Dancing with the phantoms in a Dead Man’s Waltz?
Some are ghosts of nabobs, poverty and stray bobs,
Midas and his mistress, Mammon and his wife;
Other ones are sentries, guarding double entries,
Long-forgotten, double-dealing, troubled double-life.
Down among the pass-books, money lent and spent,
Down among the forests of the Four Per Cent.,
Where the ledgers meet and moulder, and the overdrafts grow older,
And the phantoms shrug a shoulder when you ask ’em for the rent.
They are bogies of Grandfather’s cheques,
They are spectres of buried accounts,
They are crinoline sweethearts with pearls on their necks,
Demanding enormous amounts.
They are payment for suppers and flowers,
For diamonds to banish a tear,
For sweet, pretty ladies in opulent hours . . .
And tombstones . . . and bailiffs . . . and beer . . .
Down in the bowels of the bank, the ledgers lie rank upon rank,
The debts of the ages come out of their pages,
The bones of old loans creak and clank—
Oh, if you could peep through the door
To day at a Quarter Past Four,
You’d find all the ghosts at their usual posts,
And you wouldn’t sign cheques any more!
poem by Kenneth Slessor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Whip-smart
Im gonna tell my son to grow up pretty as the grass is green
And whip smart as the english channels wide
And Im gonna tell my son to keep his money in his mattress
And his watch on any hand between his thighs
And Im gonna lock my son up in a tower till I write my whole lifes story on the back of his big brown eyes
When they do the double dutch, thats them dancing
When they do the double dutch, thats them dancing
Im gonna tell my son to join a circus so that death is cheap
And games are just another way of life
And Im gonna tell my son to be a prophet of mistakes
Because for every truth there are half a million lies
And Im gonna lock my son up in a tower till he learns to let his hair down
Far enough to climb outside
When they do the double dutch, thats them dancing
When they do the double dutch, thats them dancing
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reconstruction
So, the bank has bust it's boiler! And in six or seven year
It will pay me all my money back -- of course!
But the horse will perish waiting while the grass is germinating,
And I reckon I'll be something like the horse.
There's the ploughing to be finished and the ploughmen want their pay,
And I'd like to wire the fence and sink a tank;
But I own I'm fairly beat how I'm going to make ends meet
With my money in a reconstructed bank.
"It's a safe and sure investment!" But it's one I can't afford,
For I've got to meet my bills and bay the rent,
And the cash I had provided (so these meetings have decided)
Shall be collared by the bank at three per cent.
I can draw out half my money, so they tell me, from the Crown;
But -- it's just enough to drive a fellow daft --
My landlord's quite distressed, by this very bank he's pressed,
And he'll sell me up, to pay his overdraft.
There's my nearest neighbour, Johnson, owed this self-same bank a debt,
Every feather off his poor old back they pluck't,
For they set to work to shove him, and they sold his house above him,
Lord! They never gave him time to reconstruct.
And their profits from the business have been twenty-five per cent,
Which, I reckon, is a pretty tidy whack,
And I think it's only proper, now the thing has come a cropper,
That they ought to pay a little of it back.
I have read about "reserve funds", "banking freeholds", and the like,
Till I thought the bank had thousands of assets,
And it strikes me very funny that they take a fellow's money
When they haven't got enough to pay their debts.
And they say they've lent my money, and they can't get paid it back.
I know their rates per cent were tens and twelves;
And if they've made a blunder after scooping all this plunder,
Why, they ought to fork the money out themselves.
So all you bank shareholders, if you won't pay what you owe,
You will find that on your bank will fall a blight;
And the reason is because it's simply certain that deposits
Will be stopped, the bank will bust, and serve you right!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beer Run
twenty-five minutes past quitting time
Seven of us crammed into that truck of mine
Paying no attention to them highway signs
Doing ninety miles an hour toward the county line
Quick sack, twelve pack, back again
It's a b-double e-double are you in?
My buddies and their babies letting down their hair
As long as we're together is don't matter where
Ain't got a lot of money but we just don't care
Knowing half the fun is in the getting there
Aztec, long necks, paychecks spent
Oh, it's a b-double e-double are you in?
I can't stop thinking
What the hell they were drinking
Whan they made this county dry
I got a week-long thirst
And to make it worse
Lord, it's my turn to drive
Laughing and bragging and a' carrying on
We loaded up the wagons and we headed home
I guess half a dozen cases doesn't last that long
Come tomorrow morning it'll be all gone
Them, it's turn around, leave town, sounds again
Like a b-double e-double are you in?
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet- O Listen To...
O listen to the songs, so sweet of Birds;
0 listen to the sea-waves hitting shore;
0 listen to the noise of trampling herds;
0 listen to the breeze that slams the door.
0 listen to the animals all wild;
0 listen to the Wind that howls and screams;
0 listen to the cries of orphaned child;
0 listen to the shrieks of ghosts in dreams.
0 listen to the beggar asking alms;
0 listen to the noises made by Science;
0 listen to the children clapping palms;
0 listen to God-given Conscience.
0 listen within you and hear God's call;
The Holy Spirit dwells in good souls- all.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Present Crisis
I'm afraid this one is past its sell by date, but if you can think yourself back to Christmas 2008, when I wrote it, you might just be able to appreciate it.
Santa's had to lay off all the elves,
And the dust is taking over on Santa's toyshop shelves.
If you want presents this Christmas, you'll have to buy 'em all yourselves,
Because Santa's had to lay off all the elves.
Santa's had bad luck in large amounts;
Lost nearly all his money in Icelandic bank accounts.
When he stood before the debtors' court and the verdict was pronounced,
He said 'There won't be any Christmas cheer now all my cheques have bounced'.
Santa had to cancel Christmas lunch;
When he failed to pay the elves, they polished off all his rum punch.
He can't afford the carrots that the reindeer like to munch,
And the banks won't lend him anything on account of the credit crunch.
The bailiffs came and took everything away,
The last few sacks of toys and things and even Santa's sleigh.
You can lie awake and listen, but no matter what they say,
You won't hear any jingle bells this year on Christmas Day.
The snow on the ground may glisten, as the choir sings a roundelay,
But you won't hear the sound of jingle bells this year on Christmas Day.
There may be a few things missing, but hark what the angels say:
The divine gift has been given, that's the point of Christmas Day.
There may be a few things missing, as there were on that far-off day,
When a baby was born in a stable and laid in a manger of hay.
It's the chance for a new beginning, so cast all your cares away,
And join with the choir in singing of the joy of Christmas Day.
There may be a few things missing, but Jesus is here to stay,
Which is why we all send you our wishes for a joyful Christmas Day.
In dolce jubile.
Have a happy Christmas Day.
Double Red Daisies
Double red daisies, they’re my flowers,
Which nobody else may grow.
In a big quarrelsome house like ours
They try it sometimes—but no,
I root them up because they’re my flowers,
Which nobody else may grow.
Claire has a tea-rose, but she didn’t plant it;
Ben has an iris, but I don’t want it.
Daisies, double red daisies for me,
The beautifulest flowers in the garden.
Double red daisy, that’s my mark:
I paint it in all my books!
It’s carved high up on the beech-tree bark,
How neat and lovely it looks!
So don’t forget that it’s my trade mark;
Don’t copy it in your books.
Claire has a tea-rose, but she didn’t plant it;
Ben has an iris, but I don’t want it.
Daisies, double red daisies for me,
The beautifulest flowers in the garden.
poem by Robert Graves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Double Vision
Feeling down n dirty, feeling kinda mean
Ive been from one to another extreme
This time I had a good time, aint got time to wait
I wanna stick around till I cant see straight
Fill my eyes with that double vision, no disguise for that double vision
Ooh, when it gets through to me, its always new to me
My double vision gets the best of me
Never do more than I really need
My mind is racing, but my bodys in the lead
Tonights the night, Im gonna push it to the limit
I live all of my years in a single minute
Fill my eyes with that double vision, no disguise for that double vision
Ooh, when it gets through to me, its always new to me
My double vision always seems to get the best of me - the best of me, yeah
Ooh, double vision, I need my double vision
It takes me out of my head, takin me out of my head
I get my double vision, oh, seeing double double
Oh, I have double vision, yeah, Im getting double vision... (to fade)
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tin Bank
Speaking of banks, I'm bound to say
That a bank of tin is far the best,
And I know of one that has stood for years
In a pleasant home away out west.
It has stood for years on the mantelpiece
Between the clock and the Wedgwood plate--
A wonderful bank, as you'll concede
When you've heard the things I'll now relate.
This bank was made of McKinley tin,
Well soldered up at sides and back;
But it didn't resemble tin at all,
For they'd painted it over an iron black.
And that it really was a bank
'Twas an easy thing to see and say,
For above the door in gorgeous red
Appeared the letters B-A-N-K!
The bank had been so well devised
And wrought so cunningly that when
You put your money in at the hole
It couldn't get out of that hole again!
Somewhere about that stanch, snug thing
A secret spring was hid away,
But _where_ it was or _how it_ worked--
Excuse me, please, but I will not say.
Thither, with dimpled cheeks aglow,
Came pretty children oftentimes,
And, standing up on stool or chair,
Put in their divers pence and dimes.
Once Uncle Hank came home from town
After a cycle of grand events,
And put in a round, blue, ivory thing,
He said was good for 50 cents!
The bank went clinkety-clinkety-clink,
And larger grew the precious sum
Which grandma said she hoped would prove
A gracious boon to heathendom!
But there were those--I call no names--
Who did not fancy any plan
That did not in some wise involve
The candy and banana man.
Listen; once when the wind went 'Yooooooo!'
And the raven croaked in the tangled tarn--
When, with a wail, the screech-owl flew
Out of her lair in the haunted barn--
There came three burglars down the road--
Three burglars skilled in arts of sin,
And they cried: 'What's this? Aha! Oho!'
And straightway tackled the bank of tin.
They burgled from half-past ten p.m.,
Till the village bell struck four o'clock;
They hunted and searched and guessed and tried--
But the little tin bank would not unlock!
They couldn't discover the secret spring!
So, when the barn-yard rooster crowed,
They up with their tools and stole away
With the bitter remark that they'd be blowed!
Next morning came a sweet-faced child
And reached her dimpled hand to take
A nickel to send to the heathen poor
And a nickel to spend for her stomach's sake.
She pressed the hidden secret spring,
And lo! the bank flew open then
With a cheery creak that seemed to say:
'I'm glad to see you; come again!'
If you were I, and if I were you,
What would we keep our money in?
In a downtown bank of British steel,
Or an at-home bank of McKinley tin?
Some want silver and some want gold,
But the little tin bank that wants the two
And is run on the double standard plan--
Why, that is the bank for me and you!
poem by Eugene Field
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The E Street Shuffle
Sparks fly on e street when the boy prophets walk it handsome and hot,
All the little girls souls grow weak when the manchild gives them a double shot,
The schoolboy pops pull out all the stops on a friday night,
The teenage tramps in skin-tight pants do the e street dance and everythings alright,
Little kids down there either dancin or hooked up in a scuffle,
Dressed in snake-skin suits packed with detroit muscle
Theyre doin the e street shuffle.
Now those e street brats in twilight duel flashlight phantoms in full star stream,
Down fire trails on silver nights with blonde girls pledged sweet sixteen,
The newsboys say the heats been bad since power thirteen gave a trooper all he had in a summer scuffle,
And powers girl, little angel, been on the corner keepin those crazy boys out of trouble,
Little angel steps the shuffle like she aint got no brains,
Shes deaf in combat down on lovers lane
She drives all them local boys insane.
Little angel says, oh, everybody form a line. oh, everybody form a line.
Sparks fly on e street when the boy-prophets walk it handsome and hot,
All them little girls souls grow weak when the manchild gives them a double shot,
Little angel hangs out at easy joes. its a club where all the riot squad goes when theyre cashin in for a cheap hustle,
But them boys are still on the corner loose and doin that lazy e street shuffle,
As them sweet summer nights turn into summer dreams little angel picks up power and he slips on his jeans as they move on out down to the scene
All the kids are dancin.
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Double Wide Paradise
(paul thorn/billy maddox)
I dont want to cry
I dont want to walk the floor
This mobile home
Dont feel like home no more
Since you left tell me what else can I do
Just come back home
Forgive me and forget it
This bed I made
Im tired of sleepin in it
Its freezin cold, and baby that aint cool
Im waitin on you
Here at the ponderosa trailer park
There wasnt nothin that could keep us apart
Then I broke your heart, in our
Double wide, double wide, double wide paradise
Come on back to our double wide paradise
Double wide, double wide paradise
I bought a swimmin pool
From the man at sears
He put it together
I filled it up with tears
Cant find no happiness no matter what I do
Just cause I got
The treasures of the world
It dont mean nothin
If I aint got you girl
Inside my castle
I got the king size blues
Im waitin on you
So baby when you get to feelin alone
You know I always leave my porch light on
So you can come back home, to our
Double wide, double wide, double wide paradise
Come on back to our double wide paradise
Double wide, double wide paradise
We can have a second honeymoon
Well throw some ribs on the barbecue
Just like we used to do
Double wide, double wide, double wide paradise
Come on back to our double wide paradise
Double wide, double wide paradise
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Michaelangelo
(Emmylou Harris/Rodney Crowell)
Last night I dreamed about you
I dreamed that you were older
You were looking like Picasso
With a scar across your shoulder
You were kneeling by the river
You were digging up the bodies
Buried long ago
Michelangelo
Last night I dreamed about you
I dreamed you were a pilgrim
On a highway out alone to find
The mother of your children
Who were still unborn and waiting
In the wings of some desire
Abandoned long ago
Michelangelo
Were you there at Armageddon
Was Paris really burning
Could I have been the one to pull you
From the point of no returning
And did I hear you calling out my name
Or was it forgotten long ago
Michelangelo
Last night I dreamed about you
I dreamed that you were riding
On a blood red painted pony
Up where the heavens were dividing
And the angels turned to ashes
You came tumbling with them to earth
So Far below
Michelangelo
Last night I dreamed about you
I dreamed that you were dying
In a field of thorn and roses
With a hawk about you crying
For the warrior slain in battle
From an arrow driven deep inside you
Long ago
Michelangelo
Did you suffer at the end
Would there be no one to remember
Did you banish all the old ghosts
With the terms of surrender
And could you hear me calling out your name
Well I guess that I will never know
Michelangelo
Last night I dreamed about you
I dreamed that you were weeping
And your tears poured down like diamonds
For a love beyond all keeping
And you caught them one by one
In a million silk bandanas that I gave you long ago
Michelangelo
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Double Trouble
(words & music by pomus - shuman)
Some guys fall in love with one girl, I gotta fall for two
Theres just so much lovin that one hearts supposed to do
So I go around with my heart draggin on the ground
Doggin me around, Im the sorriest sight in town
I got double trouble, I got double trouble
I got double trouble twice as much as anybody else oh yeah!
I guess theres gotta be two dark clouds hangin over me
My future looks a bumpy as a matchbox on the sea
Every time I think that I have finally got it made
Some losin cards are played, I just cant make the grade
I got double trouble, I got double trouble
I got double trouble twice as much as anybody else oh yeah!
I got double trouble, I got double trouble
I got double trouble twice as much as anybody else oh yeah!
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Double Trouble
(Featuring Marty Stuart)
(Travis Tritt/Marty Stuart/Paul Kennerley)
Well I got a buddy at the factory
I know him and he knows me
We were talking on the line today
You wouldn't believe what he had to say
I told him all about you
He said man that's strange she's my girl too
Well hello baby it's me again
You country daddy you sweet boyfriend
Guess what I heard out on the street
Yeah, they say you've been two-timing me
And if it's true you're running 'round
You've got double trouble coming down
You've got double trouble can't you see
You can't be in love with him
And veer around with me
You've got one man in the country
And one man in the town
You've got double trouble coming down
I'm sorry pal I didn't know
Well that's okay she's hit the road
I can't believe she'd be so cruel
Yeah she made us both look like a fool
She played her game until she found
She had double trouble coming down
She had double trouble you and me
Got lots of lovin' left to do
There's more fish in the sea
She had one man in the country
And one man in the town
She had double trouble coming down
She had double trouble can't you see
She couldn't be in love with you
And play around with me
She had one man in the country
And one main in the town
She had double trouble coming down
Yeah she thought that I'd be easy
She thought I'd be her clown
She had double trouble coming down
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Desirable Mansion
THE long white windows blankly stare
Across the sodden, tangled grass,
Weed-covered are the pathways where
No footsteps ever pass;
No whispers wake, no kisses die,
No laughter thrills the dwindling flowers,
Only the night hears sigh on sigh
From ghosts of long-dead hours.
None come here now to laugh or weep;
The spider spins on stair and hall,
And round the windows shadows creep,
And loathly creatures crawl.
Cold is the hearth; the door is fast;
No guest the silent threshold sees
Save ghosts out of the happy past,--
And one who is as these.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Money Money Money Can't Buy
Years of toil sweat and struggle
Looking for gold in all that rubble,
Now Jock and I struck it rich
In the middle of a no where ditch.
Now it's all safe in the bank
An' put us up a little in life's rank,
Being so perplexed I sent to Jock a text,
"Now what on earth are we going to look for next? "
NB Money does not bring happiness,
but you can buy a yacht and moor next to it.
Then sail away to find another no where ditch,
But it's in the bottom of your head, which
If you listen it's your happiness shouting
WAITING ONLY TO BE LET OUT!
poem by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Canto IV — Hys Nouryture
"Oh, when I was a little Ghost,
A merry time had we!
Each seated on his favourite post,
We chumped and chawed the buttered toast
They gave us for our tea."
"That story is in print!" I cried.
"Don't say it's not, because
It's known as well as Bradshaw's Guide!"
(The Ghost uneasily replied
He hardly thought it was).
"It's not in Nursery Rhymes? And yet
I almost think it is —
'Three little Ghosteses' were set
'On posteses,' you know, and ate
Their 'buttered toasteses.'
"I have the book; so if you doubt it — "
I turned to search the shelf.
"Don't stir!" he cried. "We'll do without it:
I now remember all about it;
I wrote the thing myself.
"It came out in a 'Monthly,' or
At least my agent said it did:
Some literary swell, who saw
It, thought it seemed adapted for
The Magazine he edited.
"My father was a Brownie, Sir;
My mother was a Fairy.
The notion had occurred to her,
The children would be happier,
If they were taught to vary.
"The notion soon became a craze;
And, when it once began, she
Brought us all out in different ways —
One was a Pixy, two were Fays,
Another was a Banshee;
"The Fetch and Kelpie went to school
And gave a lot of trouble;
Next came a Poltergeist and Ghoul,
And then two Trolls (which broke the rule),
A Goblin, and a Double —
"(If that's a snuff-box on the shelf,"
He added with a yawn,
"I'll take a pinch) — next came an Elf,
And then a Phantom (that's myself),
And last, a Leprechaun.
"One day, some Spectres chanced to call,
Dressed in the usual white:
I stood and watched them in the hall,
And couldn't make them out at all,
They seemed so strange a sight.
"I wondered what on earth they were,
That looked all head and sack;
But Mother told me not to stare,
And then she twitched me by the hair,
And punched me in the back.
"Since then I've often wished that I
Had been a Spectre born.
But what's the use?" (He heaved a sigh.)
"They are the ghost-nobility,
And look on us with scorn.
"My phantom-life was soon begun:
When I was barely six,
I went out with an older one —
And just at first I thought it fun,
And learned a lot of tricks.
"I've haunted dungeons, castles, towers —
Wherever I was sent:
I've often sat and howled for hours,
Drenched to the skin with driving showers,
Upon a battlement.
"It's quite old-fashioned now to groan
When you begin to speak:
This is the newest thing in tone — "
And here (it chilled me to the bone)
He gave an awful squeak.
"Perhaps," he added, "to your ear
That sounds an easy thing?
Try it yourself, my little dear!
It took me something like a year,
With constant practising.
"And when you've learned to squeak, my man,
And caught the double sob,
You're pretty much where you began:
Just try and gibber if you can!
That's something like a job!
"I've tried it, and can only say
I'm sure you couldn't do it, e-
ven if you practised night and day,
Unless you have a turn that way,
And natural ingenuity.
"Shakspeare I think it is who treats
Of Ghosts, in days of old,
Who 'gibbered in the Roman streets,'
Dressed, if you recollect, in sheets —
They must have found it cold.
"I've often spent ten pounds on stuff,
In dressing as a Double;
But, though it answers as a puff,
It never has effect enough
To make it worth the trouble.
"Long bills soon quenched the little thirst
I had for being funny.
The setting-up is always worst:
Such heaps of things you want at first,
One must be made of money!
"For instance, take a Haunted Tower,
With skull, cross-bones, and sheet;
Blue lights to burn (say) two an hour,
Condensing lens of extra power,
And set of chains complete:
"What with the things you have to hire —
The fitting on the robe —
And testing all the coloured fire —
The outfit of itself would tire
The patience of a Job!
"And then they're so fastidious,
The Haunted-House Committee:
I've often known them make a fuss
Because a Ghost was French, or Russ,
Or even from the City!
"Some dialects are objected to —
For one, the Irish brogue is:
And then, for all you have to do,
One pound a week they offer you,
And find yourself in Bogies!
poem by Lewis Carroll from Phantasmagoria
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Old Town Types No.17- Mr Bodge the Banker
Mr Bodge, the banker, was a power in the land;
His city bank had granted him an autocratic hand;
For our town was most remote from commerce centres then,
And only Mr Bodge could know who were our solid men.
So Mr Bodge within his bank reigned with a pride immense,
And rich men and poor men, they paid him deference;
For who could know when droughts would come to jeopardise some plan?
And one word from Mr Bodge might save or sink a man.
He shone among the 'silvertails,' a leading social light,
Well dressed, well groomed and painfully polite.
He entertained the Governor, when he was in our town,
Magistrates and M.P.'s and others of renown.
In full beards and top hats, with such a fancy spread
That the fat cook at Flynn's pub went nearly off her head
Cold collations, caviare, foods till then unknown,
And all were sure that Mr Bodge had money of his own.
He beamed on Peter Connor when he came into the bank,
For Connor was our squatter and a man of social rank.
He beamed on all the 'silvertails' of his exclusive set;
He frowned on cocky farmers who were over-long in debt.
'My bank considers character,' he'd sternly say to those.
'If you can't pay the fifty pounds, I fear we must foreclose.'
And, tho' small men called him a snob, most of the town agreed
That Mr Bodge, tho' hard at times, was very just indeed.
He once went on extended leave, and all the town's elect
Gave him a champagne send-off. 'Twas the least one might expect.
But when he overstayed his leave there was a mighty din,
The bank sent its inspectors up and called its money in
Or tried to. But old Connor failed, and Collins at the store,
The chemist and the auctioneer and half a dozen more.
And men long talked with bated breath of that depression dire
When Mr Bodge, the banker, left the old town in the mire.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Souls of Sweetness, Souls of Sour.
All that is, forever was, forever it will be
It takes only the eyes of a child to unravel the mystery.
You’re over thinking everything
You’re sinking in the songs you sing.
You should be dancing.
Slashing in the inhibitions of the past.
Making ghosts of the demons to which once you were host.
I have found upon my journey
Souls of sweetness, souls of sour.
With each I’ve spent an hour
Learning from myself.
Tell me; tell me of the dreams that rest your heart at ease.
Listen; listen to the whisper of the trees.
Does it please you?
Can you hear the secret teasing you?
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Phantasmagoria CANTO IV ( Hys Nouryture )
"OH, when I was a little Ghost,
A merry time had we!
Each seated on his favourite post,
We chumped and chawed the buttered toast
They gave us for our tea."
"That story is in print!" I cried.
"Don't say it's not, because
It's known as well as Bradshaw's Guide!"
(The Ghost uneasily replied
He hardly thought it was).
"It's not in Nursery Rhymes? And yet
I almost think it is -
'Three little Ghosteses' were set
'On posteses,' you know, and ate
Their 'buttered toasteses.'
"I have the book; so if you doubt it - "
I turned to search the shelf.
"Don't stir!" he cried. "We'll do without it:
I now remember all about it;
I wrote the thing myself.
"It came out in a 'Monthly,' or
At least my agent said it did:
Some literary swell, who saw
It, thought it seemed adapted for
The Magazine he edited.
"My father was a Brownie, Sir;
My mother was a Fairy.
The notion had occurred to her,
The children would be happier,
If they were taught to vary.
"The notion soon became a craze;
And, when it once began, she
Brought us all out in different ways -
One was a Pixy, two were Fays,
Another was a Banshee;
"The Fetch and Kelpie went to school
And gave a lot of trouble;
Next came a Poltergeist and Ghoul,
And then two Trolls (which broke the rule),
A Goblin, and a Double -
"(If that's a snuff-box on the shelf,"
He added with a yawn,
"I'll take a pinch) - next came an Elf,
And then a Phantom (that's myself),
And last, a Leprechaun.
"One day, some Spectres chanced to call,
Dressed in the usual white:
I stood and watched them in the hall,
And couldn't make them out at all,
They seemed so strange a sight.
"I wondered what on earth they were,
That looked all head and sack;
But Mother told me not to stare,
And then she twitched me by the hair,
And punched me in the back.
"Since then I've often wished that I
Had been a Spectre born.
But what's the use?" (He heaved a sigh.)
"THEY are the ghost-nobility,
And look on US with scorn.
"My phantom-life was soon begun:
When I was barely six,
I went out with an older one -
And just at first I thought it fun,
And learned a lot of tricks.
"I've haunted dungeons, castles, towers -
Wherever I was sent:
I've often sat and howled for hours,
Drenched to the skin with driving showers,
Upon a battlement.
"It's quite old-fashioned now to groan
When you begin to speak:
This is the newest thing in tone - "
And here (it chilled me to the bone)
He gave an AWFUL squeak.
"Perhaps," he added, "to YOUR ear
That sounds an easy thing?
Try it yourself, my little dear!
It took ME something like a year,
With constant practising.
"And when you've learned to squeak, my man,
And caught the double sob,
You're pretty much where you began:
Just try and gibber if you can!
That's something LIKE a job!
"I'VE tried it, and can only say
I'm sure you couldn't do it, e-
ven if you practised night and day,
Unless you have a turn that way,
And natural ingenuity.
"Shakspeare I think it is who treats
Of Ghosts, in days of old,
Who 'gibbered in the Roman streets,'
Dressed, if you recollect, in sheets -
They must have found it cold.
"I've often spent ten pounds on stuff,
In dressing as a Double;
But, though it answers as a puff,
It never has effect enough
To make it worth the trouble.
"Long bills soon quenched the little thirst
I had for being funny.
The setting-up is always worst:
Such heaps of things you want at first,
One must be made of money!
"For instance, take a Haunted Tower,
With skull, cross-bones, and sheet;
Blue lights to burn (say) two an hour,
Condensing lens of extra power,
And set of chains complete:
"What with the things you have to hire -
The fitting on the robe -
And testing all the coloured fire -
The outfit of itself would tire
The patience of a Job!
"And then they're so fastidious,
The Haunted-House Committee:
I've often known them make a fuss
Because a Ghost was French, or Russ,
Or even from the City!
"Some dialects are objected to -
For one, the IRISH brogue is:
And then, for all you have to do,
One pound a week they offer you,
And find yourself in Bogies!
poem by Lewis Carroll
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tie Our Love
Gonna tie our love in a double knot
'cause these days love gets strained a lot
To give our hearts a double shot
Let's tie our love in a double knot
Woah, if we want to endure
An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure
While we're wrapped up in those ties that bind
I want to make sure we don't unwind
So we'll tie our love in a double knot
'cause these days love gets strained a lot
To give our hearts a double shot
Let's tie our love in a double knot
'cause i've got my dreams, baby you got yours
Put it together, we got a whole lot more
'cause i ain't lookin' for just one night
No, i want to make it the rest of our lives
So lets tie our love in a double knot
'cause these days love gets strained a lot
To give our hearts a double shot
Let's tie our love in a double knot
Woah, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Tie our love in a double knot
'cause these days love gets strained a lot
To give our hearts a double shot
Let's tie our love in a double knot
Tie our love in a double knot
Let's tie our love in a double knot
Repeat & fade:
Tie our love in a double knot
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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