Treasure Island

Bernard Shaw


Ghosts.


In my house there lives some ghosts,
Mischief is their second name.
They always seem to be drinking toasts,
Usually from my best champagne.
I cannot say they are as drunk as Lords,
For that would be going too far,
But I fear they often rattle their swords,
As they stand around in my bar.
They tell some pretty tall tales,
Of things that happened in the past.
Then they break out into piteous wails,
For even my stocks of champagne will not last.
I await the day when I can join the throng,
For I too have many a tale to tell,
I will drink and join in with a song.
For I have a voice as sweet as a bell,
I hope the new owner has a taste for beer,
For that is my favourite drink you know.
Then above my wails I will give a cheer,
As the beer slowly down my gullet does go.
I do not mind the Ghosts in my house,
They give the place quite an air,
I will act as quiet as a mouse,
As long as I get my fair share.
The ghosts have been there for as long as I can remember,
They treat my house as their own,
They can stay from January to December,
And call my house their home.

Submitted: Wednesday, October 15, 2003

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read poems about / on: house, january, remember, song, fear, hope, home

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Ghosts. by Bernard Shaw )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou

PoemHunter.com Updates

Poem of the Day

poet Helen Hunt Jackson

The month of carnival of all the year,
When Nature lets the wild earth go its way,
And spend whole seasons on a single day.
The spring-time holds her white and purple dear;
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]