There's an old Tudor pub, that I know
Just off the high street in town
And though the owners and staff
Categorically claim there's no ghost
Little do they really know
For they can't explain what happens
To the odd bottle or tot, or two
That go missing during the night
The ghost is there all right
But being quite contended with his lot
With a warm place to stay
And free booze to boot
He can't be bothered to haunt.
But can he sleep? I believe a warm place to stay and free booze would keep anyone's spirits up? Danny
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This story of the free booze ghost, nice.