Post-ghost Toast.

One day I saw a ghost
A-sitting on a post,
And he was eating toast,
Not any kind of roast,
So I was feeling grossed
By this ghost with the most.

He really was the most
Face-stuffing, greedy ghost
That got completely grossed
Out while perching on a post
(A skewer for a roast)
By eating red hot toast.

Crumbs fell down from this toast,
And down on me the most,
Till I began to roast,
Shake my fist at the ghost,
All safe up on his post,
Not caring I was grossed.

While I was getting grossed
By bits of burning toast,
I kicked hard at the post,
At the weakest point most,
To dislodge this mean ghost
And hoping not to roast.

Yes, I was scared to roast,
So scared as well as grossed;
Not that coal munching ghost
With carbonated toast,
Which fell on me the most
From top of that damn post.

I grabbed and shook that post;
My anger made me roast:
My face burned red the most
On top of being grossed
By vile, Hadean toast
Ground up by crunching ghost.

I was the most grossed roast
That ever turned to toast
By means of a post-ghost.