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Who’s living in the hanged man’s house
Who’s been cooking dead cat for his tea,
behind the cracked windows black with
soot?
We can see the smoke rise from the end of
the lane,
out through the gaps in the cocked
chimneypot.
You, it’s your dad, he’s dumped the new
tart
and come back to the village to live.
No, it’s your big sister, the zombie,
she was here by the fire all of last
night.
No, it’s the ghost of that smelly old
man,
who swung for three days before he was
found.
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