Poetry for the local Café

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There is a café not far Away
Where Mummies and Vampires like to sit all Day
Discussing poetry and the forbidden spells of the Dark
Then they walk their panthers in the Park

And a Ghastly Gruesome Giant Ghoul and a Ghost
Eat small children on bits of Toast
Which they have mid-afternoon with a cup of Tea
With frog spawn paste spread quite Thinly

Where Werewolves serve in their best Sunday Suits
And Banshees fly about while playing Violins and Flutes
And the Living Dead eat the Earl Grey’s Brains.
Drinking tepid water from the putrid Drains

You see . . . . .

Big Bills Greasy Fur Ball Café is the place to Die (dine)
But is rather exclusive and you will need to wear a tie
And Tuesday’s are half price Pensioners Day
Where you can eat roast Pensioner . . . IN
Or have it as a 
Takeaway

The END

HAH HAha ha ha hahah ahah h h ha ahah ahah ah hahah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hah ah ah ah hah ah ahha ahah hahha ha ha ha ha hah ah ah ha

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