Visitors come and go at the Red Lion Inn,
But they always have wonderful memories of Room number ten.
Of course they remember the rain at night,
sunshine in the morning streaming bright,
They remember the dances with famous folk,
all the laughter when a comedian would tell a joke.
often they thought they were dreaming as time went by,
guests were certain everything was staged by Fred and I.
yet I should tell you that everything was certainly true,
The lights blinked and went out and the West wind blew.
It was a few years ago, Mother’s Day, you should know.
The first act was by three strangers who put on the show.
And every year new characters march right in,
Always just a little later than it should have been,
and always with fanfare in room number ten.
How is hospitality associated with a room like this?
I tell them it’s haunted by ghosts, who greet with a kiss.
The ghosts are friendly, and congenial hosts,
And they vie for the honor of serving the most.
They know how to smile and stay out of the rain,
When raindrops dissolve flesh it’s hard to entertain.
Each ghost has stayed a few nights in room number ten,
Practicing their manners and stifling their grins.
They are preparing for the Undertakers’ Ball,
The Halloween special that occurs in the fall.
Fred always reminds me it’s in Room number ten,
And many people crash the party and barge right in.
As long as guests aren’t rude I don’t care,
I’ll still be hospitable and welcome them there.
The Ball was a success until the show folks started in,
Now it’s on old carpet, with stars, in room number ten.
Check the covers of moldy magazines to see if this is true,
Everyone is dying to be included, how about you?

(It’s a long time until Halloween. Practice your manners!)
May 14, 2017

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