Peruse and preamble,
Through centuries of wonder
From days long ago in yonder
Down the enchanting Shambles?
Past gentleman and spinster
Toward the imposing Minster,
Where choristers sing
And mighty bells ring
And Guy Fawkes plotted against Westminster.
Of ghosts the people talk
On many a spooky walk,
Where many a haunting begin
The Golden Fleece Inn.
A skull in a casket
May seem a little wierd,
But, when I took the photo
A ghostly face appeared.
Hollow eyes stared back at me
With a deathly, horrid grin
Who was this spectre looking out
From beyond the grave within.
The swinging sign above the door
A gibbet for traitors and thieves,
This crooked inn of mystery
Macabre tales hide under its eaves.
Eboracum, Eoforwic, City of York
Warrior of the Yew tree, a star
Guarded still by the murder holes
From the turrets of Micklegate bar.
Centuries of trade from the river
Romans and Vikings sailed the Ouse,
To the medieval market 'Shambles'
A wonderful place to peruse.
York, the beautiful star of the north
Where ancient history comes alive,
Englands jewel in the crown
And ghouls and ghosts do thrive.
Phil Hall February 2014
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