In Fog Everything Is The Ghost Of Itself...So It Is. Poem by Dónall Dempsey

IN FOG EVERYTHING IS THE GHOST OF ITSELF...SO IT IS.

Alas, poor Scrooge!
I knew him

a fellow of infinite jest

a lover
of all things Christmas.

Why, he wouldn't say
boo to a ghost.

The kindest, caringest
loving loan shark

in all of this here
dreary town.

Kept me going
through hard times

even though my life
was only

rust & dust
rust & dust.


'People mutht be
amuthed! '

he'd always say
in a Sleary way

Wot happened
to the old geezer?

Why there is not a body
doesn't know dat?

Ended up Marshallsea
Debtor's prison

along with old
John Dickens.

Ya know
Charlie's father.

For want of
an unpaid baker's bill

a good man
was lost

to his self
drove him mad

it did
so it did.

Now, that Marley
on the other hand

'ard as nails....