I used to eat my bridies in this world of the dead. I preferred their company.
They piled so many in, the kirkyard sits higher than the church. Hill’s daguerreotypes show it hasn’t changed an iota since 1845.
After they cut Captain Porteous down from his pole in yonder Grassmarket they brought him here. Regent Morton’s spot is marked by what looks suspiciously like a stone stake hammered into the earth.
And Bobby. Everyone comes to see Bobby.
At dusk tourists leave and ghost hunters arrive. Today's spectres vie with heroin addicts over who gets to kip in the tombs.