“Twas quite late one night, on my vacation,
we had been drinking, in a Scottish bar.
We left together, in admiration,
we were hand in hand, off to a boudoir.
She could feel the heat of my affection,
we were both so drunk that we left the car.
I convinced her that Lane was not so great,
so we left for her home, it was quite late.
The shortcut we took was through the graveyard,
‘twas creepy and dark with mist all around.
I squeezed Marie’s hand, we were on our guard.
Then deep in the mist we heard a strange sound,
tapping in rhythm on something quite hard.
We were scared a ghost would rise from the ground.
My arm slipped around her and squeezed her tight,
she said; “don’t worry, it will be alright”.
Deep in the graveyard the night was so black,
we trembled together as we inched along.
We traveled so far, we could not turn back.
I tried to run but her hand held my thong.
The sound was so close, about to attack;
we then saw a man with chisel in hand,
he turned and remarked so we’d understand.
“My name is Henry, it’s spelled with a “Y”,
some fool couldn’t spell engraving an “I”.
Adding your comment:
! This is soo great Amera 
Meg
