HIST! HARK! The sequel

Now C.J. Dennis wrote a poem about a spooky park

And two poor kids who had to walk a mile in ghostly dark.

And so I set the challenge to see what we could do

So bear with me a minute & I’ll share my thoughts with you.

I’ve never liked the dark myself so pity those poor kids.

‘Cause I once got an awful fright when I was just a kid.

The thunderbox was up the back and nature couldn’t wait

For a good yarn on the wireless that finished rather late.

I didn’t want to miss the end so crossed my eyes and prayed

That I would beat my brothers there and wouldn’t be delayed.

The big torch in the dairy was way up past the shed

And the little one had batteries that were well and truly dead.

So when the show had finished, we all raced for the door

My hair still stands up on my head when I think of what I saw.

My blood ran cold like icy gel all through my childish veins

And why I’d had to go outside just fled my frozen brain.

My hurry was all over from the fright that I had got.

The evidence pooled around my feet – frozen on the spot!

I don’t know where my brothers were, they both ran back inside

While I stood there in frozen scream, my mouth still open wide.

The thing I saw was a ghostly shape all crashing to and fro

As though caught up right here on earth, not sure which way to go.

It came towards me with a bound and scared me half to death

Then gave a snort and backed right off before I drew a breath.

Its ghostly shroud flapped in the breeze like a drunken monster bird

And the noises it was making were like none I’d ever heard.

I thought I’d die right on the spot when the thing moved once again

And gave a ghostly groan as if it suffered mortal pain.

The shroud flew up and this time stayed, dangling there just fine

Caught beside the other sheet my mum put on the line .

A big shape came from under it and scared me once again

And I took off to get inside with the speed of a rushing train.

Next day my father worked it out and told us of our ghost.

My pony was the culprit, scratching on the clothes line post.

His scratching flapped the sheets around till one fell on his head.

He tossed his head to throw it off but scared poor me instead.

So hist! hark! Mr. Dennis, with your spooky ghostly park.

The thunderbox is inside now where it never gets real dark.

I’ll not forget the fright I got so many years ago

So now I turn the lights on whenever I have to ‘go’.