Harold Of Blinman House Poem by Paul Warren

Harold hangs at the old police station now
An old miner or an overlander they say
Not everyone will see him as he takes a bow
He's as quiet as a mouse when you stay

Nobody knows how he came to be
Perhaps he died in the cells one night
After a night on a drinking spree
Those attuned to him will see him outright

The Friends of Blinman House have found him again
Not a malevolent spirit whose presence is flaunted
He returns to the House as a friend
You may see him if visiting Blinman House as it's haunted.

© Paul Warren Poetry