Ode to the Red Fox Room
(Drinking with the ghost of Shirley Allen)
The walls are dark, mahogany stained
From this wood the blood not drained
Dark red and dim like murderous lanterns
The Red Fox Room is full of phantoms
Of Marion Davies, Fuzz, and Fredrick
Their spirits yet had not ascended
But no spirit known comes here more often
Than the loving ghost of Shirley Allen
Who played piano for many years
Who cancer took, despite our jeers
Who visits us from time to time
To try and touch what she left behind
Who whiffs the bistro back in the back
And presses face against stained glass
Who runs slender hand ‘cross piano keys
And strokes a melody with ghostly ease
The shadow of Shirley walks here still
‘Cause she, like we, can’t get our fill
Of this ancient inn from the 1500′s
From a small hilltop outside of London
Stowed piece by piece on a once great ship
And brought to America in ’26
They took it from there and rebuilt it here
Now Shirley’s grin spans ear to ear
Then the ghost of milady floats away
But will return another day.
To weave in and out of patrons tables
And listen to their dreams and fables.
In loving memory of the great Shirley Allen
