The women did holloa, the boys they did shout,
Mr. Ghost, how’s your mother, does she know you’re out?
The peelers was sent to put them to the rout,
And clear them away from the square.
They collared some boys, but the Ghost was not found,
Though they looked for him everywhere,
And some will remember the time I’ll be bound—
The Ghost’s visit unto Woburn Square.
In my time I have heard queer ghost stories told,
How through keyholes they’d pop in the days of old,