This is a bit of nonsense borne of insomnia and a particularly awkward verse form. Rhyming two syllable lines can just sod off, if you ask me.
In the depths of night
There’s a glimpse of white:
A ghost!
Such an awful sight
Would be too much fright
For most
I accept my plight
Calmly spread marmite
On toast
I prepare my snack
And my total lack
Of fear
Takes the ghost aback
Tries a different tack:
Oh dear.
Now he’s on the rack
And his bones go crack.
I hear,
But I just ignore
All the shrieks and gore
And wait.
Now he’s feeling sore
Cannot take much more
It’s late.
Panic, ghosts adore
But to seem a bore
They hate.
Now he looks at me
And he seems to plea
“Just scream!
Feel afraid and flee
From the things you see.
You seem
Like a poor hauntee:
So this night must be
A dream!”
And he’s quite right there
I’m a ghost’s nightmare
Someone
That he cannot scare
And who won’t beware:
No fun!
Spirits just can’t bear
An undaunted stare.
They’ll run!
Tom Juniper Poetry 