Ghost.
Aye, that most queer and het’rogeneous dish,—
With witchcraft and old fairy tales dress’d up,—
(Singular taste! that could on Shakespeare graft
Old “Mother Bunch”) bringing to “Tom Thumb’s” level
The plot of my most seeming perfect play.
Oh, gracious! what a dreadful sight was there
For me, or any other anxious parent!
My tricksy Ariel in a ballet skirt—
The fairy of a Christmas pantomime!