GOBINDA Modak
Bardhaman, West Bengal
In Ghost Town live the spooky crew,Cross-eyed, crooked, bent ones too.On the banyan, a Brahma ghost sways,A witch on the fig tree haunts always.Masters of fright, Mamdo and clan,Dance on one leg as fast as they can.Ghosts and goblins, spirits dire,Zombies, gnomes, and vampires.Truth ghosts, lie ghosts, Chinese too,Field ghosts, baby ghosts, quite a few.Forgetful ghost, the timid kind,Fishy ghosts are hard to find.Friendly ghosts and ghostly foes,Singers, stammerers, heaven knows.Ghosts and witches, demons, sprites,Magic spells on haunted nights.Weird ghosts, tall ghosts, ghosts so sly,Cemetery souls that never die.Haunted house and shadow’s lair,Darkness creeping everywhere.Scary, eerie, pale and bright,Even Chandrabindu loves this fright.“Ghosts aren’t real,” you say, oh please,Then come a little closer, if you dare, let’s see!