Martello's Mystery

West Saint John has many ghosts, As many ghosts as people. They move in mist where shadows twist, And scrutinize church steeples. Martello Tower proudly sits Upon the Carleton Heights. A cavalcade of ghosts parade Like Moses' Israelites. Basil Hamilton will swear: "There's no such thing as ghosts!" But his wife knew he'd rendezvous With many misplaced hosts. If you observed the grounds at night, You'd see the spirits roam. And Basil feared they'd reappear To escort him back home. But he was stationed there to watch If German submarines Came within reach of Beatteay's Beach, Or somewhere in between. "Be quiet in the dungeon, you Who moan and rattle chains! You rolled the dice. You'll pay the price. I guard you with disdain. I cannot let you out of here. I'll give you bread and drink. That's all I'll do for duds like you." Clink-clink! Clink-clink! Clink-clink! Some say they've seen the Red Coat ghost Bent over, looking down. He's lost his pay, or lost his way To Heaven's Holy Town. Martello's ghosts can bear the dark, But then where do they go? They're trapped inside, disqualified, With no portfolio. Perhaps tonight, some local kids Sneak in there, just like mice. They'll then transform, in uniforms Of vanquished poltergeists. The Tower ghosts are very old. These relics know their role. They can be seen each Halloween Peering through a peephole.