25 June 2012
They conjured up some ponce Who haunted fair Paris, Called himself the Phantom Of the Opera you see. People flock to see him Prance upon the stage; They think it's all just fun and games But it fills me with rage. They're stealing my persona! I complain to George and Harry all day, The Phantom's from aul Belfast Not somewhere in Europe, across the way. I'm the one who wears the cloak, Appears at the round window, I'm the one who gives a fright, Who leaves you there in limbo, Who passes through your body Sending shivers down your spine, I'm the one in the rafters Made of ancient oak and pine. So Dear Lord Lloyd-Webber When you think up another show, I demand my box be left empty And my royalties fee, don't you know. Notify your patrons And install a dungeon layer- I don't write Music of the Night But I'd like the thought to be there- Or else I'll nick your leading lady And put yer windees in. You don't want to mess with me The true Opera Phantom.
©Delilah
Haunted Belfast #5: Phantom Of The Opera • Opuss № I