It's not a haunted house
 

It’s not a haunted house, it’s

Just disturbed, it’s the wind, it

Often does that, don’t be scared.

Did you see the curtains move?

Did a presence cross the room?

If it did, I didn’t see it, that’s

The truth.
 

It’s not a haunted house, it’s

Just distressed, for many years

It's suffered much neglect.

The gas pipes sometimes moan,

And I can’t deny it’s cold, but

I do assure you you’ll be safe in bed.
 

Don’t listen to the tapping, the

Scraping or the screams, and do

Ignore the voices on the stairs.

It’s all imagination, nothing more

And nothing less, and I promise

Hand on heart there’s nothing

There.
 

It’s not a haunted house, it’s

Just upset, it’s seen a dozen

Masters fall on death. The faces

On the walls, the footsteps in

The hall, sad reflections of a past

It can’t forget.
 

Now blow the candle out and

Go to sleep, put from your mind

All thoughts of what might be. At

The bottom of the bed, slowly

Crawling up your leg, best ignore

It if you’ll take a tip from me.
 

It’s not a haunted house, it’s

Just possessed, with a need to keep

Whoever rests their head. It isn’t

Hallowe’en, but I’m afraid you

Cannot leave, it’s locked the doors,

Barred the windows, chained your

Legs.
 

© Joseph G Dawson