Here I sit, among the souls
Of dear, departed people,
In the shadow of another
White New England steeple,
Flowers strewn across the way,
Headstones worn and faded,
My husband brought me out today,
A date, I was persuaded....
"Come with me, I'll buy you lunch,
I know just what you like.."
Frankly I was glad for once
He'd go out in the light,
We ate, we left, we carried on
And then, as I had known,
To the 'dead centre' of the town
Where he is most at home.
You see, hes fond of anywhere
That people have been laid,
Beneath a nice artistic stone,
He loves historic graves,
His favourite show? Dark Shadows -
Did you really need to ask?
He'd love to be like Barnabas,
Or maybe Reverend Trask...!
My father went to Whitby,
Somewhere I have never been,
He visited the places
Where the undead have been seen,
My husband he bought 'Dracula'
And, sparing no expense,
For me he bought a silver cross
To use in self defence.
Don't judge because I love the man,
Don't mock me for my feelings,
Its not so different sleeping
Upside down upon the ceiling,
I bet your husband has a lot
of stranger tendencies,
We just prefer a glass of blood
To coffee, juice or tea.
But jokes aside, my husband
Isn't really the undead..
Hes gifted in photography,
In history, well read,
Though if it turns out to be true,
It won't give me a fright,
I'll just lay back, admire his fangs,
And let him have a bite!
