I’m Shagger Shepherd, ghost of the Royal Oak
In my life, a pretty notorious bloke,
A seventeenth century villain, partial to sheep,
Trouble was they were never mine to keep.

I raided the Downs for as many as I could find,
I was happy to think the owners would not mind,
Then one day I realised that I got it wrong,
They came for me in such a fearful throng.

I ran for it so as to make my getaway,
Found myself in the tiny hamlet of Hooksway,
There I realised why I was such a wanted bloke,
They pursued me to my shelter in the Royal Oak.

A public house offering little resistance to a mob,
Entering they found me standing by the hob
Guns were raised to soon settle the score.
William Shagger Shepherd was to be no more.

As my mortal remains lay the spirit broke free
And remains aged three hundred and thirty three,
Customers don’t seem bothered by my presence
Either good for business or a test for a sixth sense.

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