Harold of Blinman House

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