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