The Tavern
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henever I go by there nowadaysAnd look at the rank weeds and the strange grass,The torn blue curtains and the broken glass,I seem to be afraid of the old place;And something stiffens up and down my face,For all the world as if I saw the ghostOf old Ham Amory, the murdered host,With his dead eyes turned on me all aglaze. The Tavern has a story, but no manCan tell us what it is. We only knowThat once long after midnight, years ago,A stranger galloped up from Tilbury Town,Who brushed, and scared, and all but overranThat skirt-crazed reprobate, John Evereldown.
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