I am the ghost of Fortune Street

Your local Primary

My grave was in an open field

Then they built a school on me

For centuries I was content

To glide behind the ploughs

Or if I felt some devilment

To agitate the cows

It wasn’t much, I will admit

To keep this spirit up

Spooking pigs or making sounds

To scare the farmyard pup

But then the farm was boarded up

And builders started working

Which gave me endless ways that I

Could polish up my lurking

I annoyed a trainee carpenter

By undoing all his screws

Then made him fall by tying up

The laces on his shoes

The plumber got a nasty fright

While looking down a hole

As I popped out and yelled, “Beware,

I’m coming for your soul!”

But slightly later than they planned

The primary school was finished

And thus thought I, my spooking days

Will now be quite diminished

How wrong I was, I’m pleased to say

My fun had only started

Who knew that death could be so good

For those who have departed?

Gluing up the scissors

Scribbling in a book

Stuffing someone’s jumper

Where I know they’ll never look

Making farting noises

When the teacher crouches down

Hiding all the colours

So you’re only left with brown

Waiting till the teacher’s cross

And she has called for quiet

Then tickling random children

So I nearly cause a riot

Emptying a lunchbox

Knocking over drinks

Causing floods in bathrooms

With a plug stuck in the sink

I can’t remember when I felt

So happy and alive

Amazing since I passed away

In 1825

I think I’ll hang around the place

And do more of the same

I like it most when I’ve been bad

And others get the blame

The teachers keep discussing

Why behaviour’s bad in school

They don’t suspect that most of it

Is committed by a ghoul

But in the office yesterday

As I gave a ghostly wail,

The secretary got a call

That made her turn quite pale

The school is to be visited

By a man called an inspector

This could be fun, I wonder if

He’s ever met a spectre?