I’ve heard stories about you,
And yet we’ve never met.
How can you hide in this small town
like shadow in silhouette?
Do you crawl amongst the dewy moss?
Do you bury down deep underground?
Do you go to bed when lights turn out,
or do owls hoot to you a sign?
Do you sing a merry tune to the sun,
or howl at the sight of the moon?
Can you see through fog and mist,
or are you blind and hear just sounds?
Do you freeze at the feel of Jack’s tingly frost,
or turn to stone in the summer rays?
Do you melt in April showers,
or does heat make you fade?
Father says you’re in the graveyard,
While Mum says you haunt homes;
How can you be in two places at once,
or do you often roam?
One thing is for certain,
We’ll surely meet one day
But I feel I must warn you:
I may run the other way!
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