The Portland Gazette

POETRY.

From the Provincial Journal.

POETRY. No. 2.

THE GHOST.

By the author of "I know not his visit to Dracon Stakes."

'Tis about twenty years since old Lsn,
A ghost, robed in a shroud, serty
Old soldier of the Revolutionary
War,
Was wedded to
A most abominable shrew,
The temper, sir, of Shakspeare's "Catharine"
Could not be more compared with hers,
Than mine
With Lucifer's.
Her eye was like a weasel's;
She had a harsh
Face like a cranberry marsh;
All spread,
With spots of white and red.
As if she had the measles
With hair of the color of a wisp of straw,
And a disposition like a cross-cut saw.
The appellation of this lovely dame
Was Ann, or Nancy—don't forget the name.
Her brother—David—was a tall.
Good-looking chap, and that was all.
One of your great, big nothings, as we say
Here in Rhode Island; picking up old jokes,
And cracking them on other folks.
Well: David undertook, one night, to play
The Ghost, and frighten Abel, whom he knew
Would be returning from a journey, through
A grove of forest-wood
That stood
Below
The house—some distance, half a mile, or so.
With a long, taper
Cap of white paper,
Just made to cover
A wig, nearly as large over
As a corn-basket; and a sheet,
With both ends made to meet
Across his breast;
(The way in which ghosts are always drest;)
He took
His station near
A huge oak tree;
Whence he could overlook
The road, and see
Whatever might appear.
It happened, that about an hour before, friend Abel
Had left the table
Or bar room, where he had made a halt,
With his horse and
To taste a drop
Of malt
Liquor, and so forth: which being done
He went on ;
Caring no more for twenty ghosts,
Than if they were so many posts
David was nearly tired of waiting
His patience was abating,
At length he heard the careless tone
Of his kinsman's voice;
And there the noise
Of the wagon wheels among the stones.
Abel was much elated; and was roaring
With all his might ; and pouring
Out, in great confusion,
Scraps of old songs made in "the revolution."
His head was full of Bunker-Hill and Trenton
And still he went on,
Scaring the whip-poor-wills among the trees,
With thymes like these.
"See the Yankees
Leave the Hill,
With bayonets declining—
With lopp'd down hats,
And rusty guns,
And leather aprons shining."
"See the Yankees.—Whoa! Why, what is that ?"
Said Abel, staring like a cat,
As slowly, on the fearful figure strode
Into the middle of the road.
"My conscience! What a suit of clothes!
Some crazy fellow, I suppose.
Halloo! friend What's name; By the powers of gir
That's a strange dress to travel in."
"Be silent. Abel; for I now have come
To read your doom.
Then, hearken. while your fate I now declare.
I am a Spirit."—"I suppose you are.
But you'll not hurt me; and I'll tell you why.
Here is a fact which you cannot deny:
All spirits must be either
Good
Of
God
That's understood
And be you Good or Evil I am sure
That I'm secure,
If a good spirit—I am safe : If evil
And I don't know but you may be the Devil—
If that's the case, you'll recollect I fancy,
That I am married to your sister Nancy,