And heard them talk of Spooks and things that filled me with affright.
The Psychical Society, as every member boasts,
Was founded with the object of investigating Ghosts!
Now Ghosts, the modern species, are of very various sorts,
For like some plants, as botanists say, they seem to run to "sports."
I used to think a spectre _was_ a spectre, but I find
The "Psychical" can furnish Spooks of every class and kind.

_CHORUS._

[Illustration]

Some of the Ghosts are little, some of the Ghosts are big,
Some come in the guise of a headless man, and some of a spectre pig.
Some of them laugh "Ha! ha!" Some of them wail "Heigho!"
And I felt that night in a doose of a fright before it was time to go.

I had read _Phantasmagoria_ by that writer quaint but grand,
Who penned _The Hunting of the Snark_ and _Alice in Wonderland_.
And I thought I knew a thing or two, or might be even three,
About a Ghoul, and a Fay or Troll, and a Brownie or Banshee.
I knew that a Banshee always howled, whilst a Goblin might but yawn,
I also knew that a Poltergeist was _not_ a Leprechaun,
But the Psychicals, I'm bound to say, had me on "buttered toastes"
With the wonderful changes which they rang on the good old Churchyard
"Ghostes."

_CHORUS._

Some of their Ghosts were sages, some of them seemed sheer noddies;