An older man from Scotland drank a pint of whiskey; neat.

And wandering off the known path home, was swallowed by the peat.

The earthy taste of scotch now on his tongue forever more

His spirit haunts the pubs about as ghostly local lore.

The simple-minded townsfolk swear they’d felt his presence still

When, after dark, inside their hearts they’d feel an icy chill.

A drenched and musty smelling form appeared with reaching hand

To clutch at souls of sinners who might dwell within this land.

To venture out at night upon the streets of Aberdeen

Your mind should not be clouded, your senses should be keen.

There’s danger in each shadow, fear in every alleyway

A safe trip home not guaranteed when ghosts are in the way.

So when drinking to be merry, don’t forget to count each glass

‘Cause walking home at evenings end, his spirit you might pass.

A trip at curb, a sleeve that snagged, you’re sure there’s something there

Don’t be surprised, in Aberdeen, if you vanish in thin air.

By James Geehring