John met many people.
Some days it was his daughter,
even when she was still on the phone.
Other days it was different folk
Some were soldiers and some were children
None of them said anything
not to him or those that didn’t see them
Their absence perpetuated that
and no-one was any the wiser
Only John knew the score
He became really upset
He phoned up for help
but no one could see what he was on about.
“You lot think I’m daft,” said John
“They’re in the bedroom, lying on the bed.
No one speaks. I can’t get them to go.”
“No bother. I told them to go. So they went,”
said his daughter
All was now fine
On the next night, as the dusk came
more folk arrived
Some were in the bedroom
Some were in the living room
John was again concerned
and none of them spoke
They were just there.
“They’re back here, again,” said John on the phone
“You’ll have to come and get rid of them
They’ll be after my money.”
“You don’t have any money,” said his daughter
who now understood the developing symptoms
In the home John met real people.