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
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