A ghost set out one moonlit night,
His tattered sheet made quite the sight.
He’d planned to haunt with eerie flair,
But his faint glow was thin and rare.
He floated high, then snagged a tree,
His sheet got stuck—oh, woe was he!
The owls all hooted, “What’s this mess?
You’re less a spook, more fancy dress!”
He tried to wail, to chill...
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