Kelly and the Ghost

Maurice Kelly one night when about three parts loaded

Was making for home after twelve in the night

At the foot of the lane there for rest he remained

when a figure appeared there clothed all in white

“Good night, sir”, said Kelly, but got back no answer

The figure remained just as still as a post.

“You look like a boxer who’s rusted for fighting”

But never a word got he from the ghost

He hauled off his coat and he rolled up his shirt sleeves

“Come on now, me bruiser”, he spoke it quite clear

When the figure in white drove his head through a shutter

With a left-handed smack to the back of his ear

“One for you now” cried Kelly, half stunned with the tumble

He then made a butt and his head struck a post

His mouthful of teeth tumbled out in the street

With the wonderful dart that he got from the ghost

By this time old Kelly was feeling half sober

The ghost left and right his two can-hooks did fly

Kelly begged from his knees, with a face like soft cheese

"Will ye call off the fight while I look for me eyes?"

The figure moved off and the fight it was ended

and Kelly, half stunned, put his hat on his head

He crawled to his door and did humbly implore

For his wife to assist him upstairs to his bed

He then told his wife how he fought with a stranger

So strong as a bull but a girl almost

She then told her husband his wonderful danger

"Maurice, me man, you've been fighting a ghost”

Twas Kelly's wife dressed in white for to keep him from drinking

She gave him a beating and left him for dead

and now every night he won't drink after light

But right after supper goes straight off to bed