The Unbeliever

No, No, I don't believe in ghosts.
This is not an idle boast.
Nor in tea leaves or how I got 'em
Formed in circhles on the bottom.
It must have been a simple trick
How that gypsy knew I was sick.
And why shouldn't I open that jar in the cellar
Just because it was found
Under an old black umbrella.
Your imagination is going wild
If you think I believe in Satan's Child.
The sound I heard was not a moan
But I hope and pray they leave me alone!