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Oho! Mr. Ghost, I am waiting for you; You're an old friend of mine, both trustworthy and true; For that big head of yours that near gave me a fright Was in somebody's pumpkin-patch only last night. And out of my window not two hours ago I saw your head scooped out by Bill, Jack, and Joe; And I saw you stuck up on the end of a lath Before you were stationed right here in my path.

Oho! Mr. Ghost, with your garments so fine! I know what became of that sheet on the line In the neighbor's back yard, newly washed and alone. It is hiding that lath that you use for backbone, And the candle that burned in the kitchen last night Lights those cavernous eyes that near gave me fright; Indeed, you are made from such odds and such ends That I feel we're the warmest of very old friends.

And those sepulchral groans you are making at me, I know whence they come—from that big apple-tree That is right behind you—I have heard them before; They were begging for cake at the side kitchen-door. So you see, Mr. Ghost, with your pumpkin and lath, With your candle and sheet, when I came up the path I heard a boy chuckle up there in the tree, And that is the reason you can't frighten me!

E gray owl sing f'um de chimbly top, "Who-who-is you-oo?" En I say, "Good Lawd, hit's des' po' me, En I ain't quite ready fo' de Jasper Sea, I'm po' an' sinful, ez yo' 'lowed I'd be ; Oh, wait, good Lawd, twell to-morrer."