And I lay there in Trafalgar Square, on a cold stone alone.
I seemed to hear a wailing cry, a whisper on the breeze,
Which said, in accents I well knew, "Now then, Time, Gentlemen, please!"
It may have been the warning to recall those vagrant Ghosts
To —— wheresoever they abide, poor pallid spectral hosts!
What it all meant I cannot tell, but this at least I know,
To that Psychical Society no more at night I'll go!
Chorus.
Some of the Ghosts did goggle, some of the Spooks did stare,
But there they sat in a spectral row round "the Squirts" in Trafalgar Square.