Poetry for a Haunted Café.

There is a café not far Away

Where Mummies and Vampires like to sit all Day

Discussing poetry and the forbidden spells of the Dark

Then they walk their panthers in the Park

And a Ghastly Gruesome Giant Ghoul and a Ghost

Eat small children on bits of Toast

Which they have mid-afternoon with a cup of Tea

With frog spawn paste spread quite Thinly

Where Werewolves serve in their best Sunday Suits

And Banshees fly about while playing Violins and Flutes

And the Living Dead eat the Earl Grey’s Brains.

Drinking tepid water from the putrid Drains

You see . . . . .

Big Bills Greasy Fur Ball Café is the place to Die

But is rather exclusive and you will need to wear a tie

And Tuesday’s are half price Pensioners Day

Where you can eat roast Pensioner . . .  IN

Or have it as a

Takeaway

The END

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