Charles Causley

When to the music of Byrd or Tallis,The ruffed boys singing in the blackened stalls,The candles lighting the small bones on their faces,The Tudors stiff in marble on the walls.There comes to evensong Elizabeth or Henry,Rich with brocade, pearl, golden lilies, at the alter,The scarlet lions leaping on their bosoms,Pale royal hands fingering the crackling…

But someone or other forgot to declareTo Colonel Fazak that the spectre was there.On the very first evening, while waiting to dine,The Colonel was taking a fine sherry wine,When the ghost, with a furious flash and a flare,Shot out of the chimney and shivered, ‘Beware!’Colonel Fazackerley put down his glassAnd said, ‘My dear fellow, that’s…