It was late at night, the kids I was babysitting had gone to bed, and there was nothing on TV. :)

Oh so dottie,

How does your song go?

Do you prefer goblin hells,

Or petticoat swells,

Or fops and phantoms all in a row?

Of wit so quick,

How does your song go?

Of Phantom’s bane,

And lovers’ lane,

And sopranos who say no.

To make Phantom stop,

There are things you must know.

Of trapdoor spies and

Hands at the level of your eyes!

To Nadir you must go.

You are not a,

Star of this show,

Christine’s singing is hot,

Yours simply is not,

The Phantom’d have you know.

I’ll see you later,

In the Phantom’s lair,

In Phantom’s trap,

(You’ve had a bit of a scrap),

Of the grasshopper beware!

A perfect segue,

Christine’s fear’s sieve,

She says he’s there,

Mother says beware,

And you’re not quite sure what to believe.

Both of you,

I deeply pity,

Why on Earth,

Would your luck have such dearth,

To pick this haunted city?

Old and wiry,

Of secrets she has many,

Where Phantom dwells,

And the stories he tells,

She reveals to not any.

Your idle Phantom chats,

Could get you into trouble.

The ghost’s mad,

There’s revenge to be had,

Nefarious plans in his head bubble.