The doors swing wide
Their dusty inhabitants no more to hide.
The ghouls limp out
Too long of bad living affecting their gout.
The imps—who shouldn’t have been there
Escape from their accidental incarceration last year.
A couple of ghosts waft away
Another chance to chase and play.
But Immigration Control, dockets in hand
Refuses them entry—they all are banned.
“Why?” says one.
“Why?” another bays.
“You missed the deadline by a day.”