Gilbert lives in crumbling rooms
Above his pub, where business booms
Despite the fact that on some nights
When he turns on the brightest lights

He'll see a dozen blinking eyes.
Sinking heads will briefly rise.
He keeps his regulars content
And they won't care how much they've spent.

He banned a one-man dancing band.
He shunned a drunk who couldn't stand.
He barred a dull and boring bard
And burned a teen's fake ID card.

His regulars are free to speak.
Truth and knowledge they will seek.
They'll wonder why the seasons change
And why their fingers smell so strange.

They'll talk about why horses neigh.
Sometimes they'll wonder how to say
'Can I have ham sandwiches?'
In many foreign languages.

Jack complains about his wife,
Who talks to her huge carving knife.
They rarely interact with Jack,
Who thinks they're longing for his back.

Derek often mentions love
Between a pigeon and a dove.
Fred talks of his head's red bugs
And Felix makes them wear ear plugs.

He shouts when he attempts to speak.
He's got no paddle in his creek
When he's without his hearing aids.
He hates his muddle-headed maids.

They always mix up cold with hot.
They lose his hearing aids a lot.
The aids can turn up in the roses
Or even up the maids' own noses.

Dan was always very quiet.
Sometimes he'd leave the pub at night
Having just said 'yes' and 'bye',
And 'I found staples in my pie'.

But he was struck by lightning once
And after this he spoke for months.
They thought his vocal cords would fail.
He told his drinking friends this tale:

One night they had discussed pyjamas,
The ones you'd wear in the Bahamas
If you were sleeping with a model
Who just can't sleep, assuming God'll

Turn a blind all-seeing eye.
He'll wink and nudge you when you die.
He wouldn't mind your earthly bliss.
They spent four hours debating this.

At midnight Dan set out for home
And on the road he found a comb.
This simple comb instilled a fear.
He thought the Banshee must be near.

She combs her hair and wails to tell
Of someone's death, a mournful knell.
And he could tell the way this bodes.
He hurried on down narrow roads.

He prayed to God's angelic guards.
When he was just a hundred yards
Away from home he heard a noise.
He soon was faced with two glass eyes.

The eyes contained two small red lights.
They both lacked coal-black depths and whites.
These glowing eyes seemed out of place,
Embedded in a scarecrow's face.

This beast seemed out of place as well.
He looked like he belonged in hell.
He'd left his field and climbed a gate.
His smiling face exuded hate.

His mouth had rusting nails for teeth.
He'd screws for nails in wooden feet.
His coat was stuffed with straw and rats.
The smell attracted three black cats.

The scarecrow said, "It's cold tonight."
Dan came close to taking flight,
But as the voice rang in his head
It sounded like his neighbour, Ted.

The scarecrow spoke about the cold
And how the stars were made of gold.
He said 'goodnight' and walked away.
Dan was not inclined to stay.

He hurried home and went to bed.
The sound of what the scarecrow said
Occupied Dan's head till dawn
When his familiar world was drawn,

And coloured in by sunlight's rays.
Blues replaced the blacks and greys.
He felt no fear, no need to hide
Until he heard that Ted had died.

And Ted's scarecrow could not be found.
They saw strange footprints on the ground,
The imprints of two wooden feet
That bore a being no man should meet.

Silence greeted Dan's strange tale,
But thoughts of models never fail
To brighten up the atmosphere,
Aided by good stout and beer.

They remembered their debate.
Derek took this chance to state
In bed he'd wear a suit and tie,
But still his nerves would make him cry.