My ancestor, Sir Godfrey Beane.”
“Your ancestor! How can that be?”
Exclaimed the little ghost, “when he,
Last of his line, was drowned at sea
Two hundred years ago; this stone
Is to his memory alone.
I, and I only, saw his end.
As he, my master and my friend,
Leaned o’er the vessel’s side one night
I pushed him—no, it was not right,