GHOSTIES AT THE WEDDING

Turn down a glass afore his place; Draw up the dog-eared chair; For though we shall not see his face, I think he will be there Our wedding day to share. Turn up the glass where she would be And put a red rose there. Her quick, grey eyes we cannot see, But weren’t they everywhere, And shall not they be here? Though them old blids are in the grave And their good light’s gone out, We’d sooner their kind ghosties have Than all the living rout As will be there no doubt. For some are dead as cannot die, Some flown as cannot flee. You still do fancy ’em near by. ’Tis so with him and she, At any rate to we.