There was a young ghost from the moon
who said, “Too late is too soon!”
On a spectral mandolin
because he can’t sing
he strums a phantasmic tune.
The skeleton sat down to dinner
forgetting he had been a sinner
in his former life
when he berated his wife
for not being fitter and slimmer.
The headless phantom was right
to complain about electric light.
Because of the glare
on the highest stair
his scares lack sufficient fright.
The werewolf was rarely hairy
and this meant he wasn’t scary
enough for the toughs
in collars and cuffs
he met on the moonlit prairie.
There was a zombie technician
who lurched on one final mission
to invent a reactor
to power a tractor
that relied on fusion, not fission.
The vampire was feeling quite batty
because his cloak had grown tatty.
So he remained at home
at ease on his own
wheezing the Gymnopédies of Satie.
A demon who newly adored tiramisu
composed an ardent billet-doux
to the pudding in question
without any digression
on his previous love for Vindaloo.
Rhys Hughes has lived in many countries. He graduated as an engineer but currently works as a tutor of mathematics. Since his first book was published in 1995 he has had fifty other books published and his work has been translated into ten languages.
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