Are you bold, are you brave? Will you go to the grave
Of the man they called one-legged Jack,
Whose beard was feared and whose eyes always leered
As they glinted with fathomless black?
Will you stand near his stone when you hear a low moaning
That shatters the hideous night,
When the trees seem to freeze in the glacial breeze
And the moon hides its face out of fright?
And when you hear tapping and wrenching and rapping
And up bursts a fountain of earth,
Will you simply stand still, keeping calm and quite still?
Or leg it for all that you’re worth?
A ghost popped out of our toaster
And staring quite sternly it said
‘Don’t you know this is really a ghoster,
And these are the slots for the dead?’
We did try to offer it honey
And butter and marmite and all,
But the ghost said ‘Don’t try to be funny’
And simply walked straight through the wall.