The First Ghost I Met
I rode by an old homestead’s ruins
Saw a ghost standin’ there
I said, “Well, howdy, oldtimer,
You be goin’ somewhere?”
He didn’t look friendly, but then,
That’s the first ghost I’d met.
Then he pointed at the rubble
And both his cheeks got wet
He spoke in a raspy voice
Like nothin’ worked real well.
Talked of hard times and good times, too,
And tales that he could tell.
He got throwed from a wild mustang –
Broke his neck in ’50.
His widow wed a trav’lin man –
Nothin’ if not shifty.
So he spent thirty years near ‘bouts
Hauntin’ his own home.
Been so busy spreadin’ ghostly
Ain’t had much time to roam.
I asked him why he’s standin’ ‘round
When all his folks was gone –
He said he didn’t rightly know,
He just kept hangin’ on.
I said, “Well, podnah, climb on up –
You don’t weigh much I ‘spect.”
He said, “No sir, don’t think I’ll ride –
Last time I broke my neck.”
So if you see a ghost ‘round here,
One lookin’ kinda gaunt,
Be nice to that wore out cowboy –
He’s lost his place to haunt
Copyright © Larry Bradfield | Year Posted 2016
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