The Haunted Hour - An Anthology by Various
page 108 of 244 (44%)
page 108 of 244 (44%)
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To prove the seaman's text,
That after black appearances, White squalls will follow next. "O Phoebe dear! Oh, Phoebe dear! Don't go and scream or faint; You think because I'm black, I am The Devil, but I ain't! Behind the heels of Lady Lambe I walked while I had breath, But that is past, and I am now A-walking after death! "No murder, though, I come to tell, By base and bloody crime; So, Phoebe dear, put off your fits To some more fitting time. No coroner, like a boatswain's mate, My body need attack, With his round dozen to find out Why I have died so black. "One Sunday, shortly after tea, My skin began to burn, As if I had in my inside A heater like a urn. Delirious in the night I grew, And as I lay in bed, They say I gathered all the wool You see upon my head. |
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