Laundry ghost laugh edges beer

I haven't been stirring any poetry jam for a while, mainly due to the busy-ness of my social calendar (ha!) but when I read Chris Alba's prompt (her excellent blog is here by the way) I suppose my sense of the ridiculous couldn't resist. Simply put - compose a poem using the words laundry, ghost, laugh, edges beer.
You asked for it, Chris -

Ghost laugh laundry edges beer

Oh those poltergeists may prattle,
make the cups and saucers rattle,
as they wage their eerie battle with us mortals.
And there are definitely tensions
when strange spooks from far dimensions
whisper otherworld pretensions through the portals.
And zombies caked in earth
that experience re-birth,
will transmit their tuppenceworth of atmosphere.
But nothing will prepare you
for the tendency to scare you
when that evil ghost-laugh laundry edges beer.

When that evil ghost-laugh laundry edges beer,
wise counsel warns you shouldn’t get too near.
It will thrill you, it will chill you,
it will more than likely kill you,
when that evil ghost-laugh laundry edges beer.

A vampire may surprise you,
petrify and paralyse you.
When you gaze into his eyes, you know you’re falling.
And a banshee, loudly wailing
on a bench beside a railing
will leave one’s reason failing – how appalling!
And when witches cross the moon
with their potions widely strewn,
you just know there’s trouble brewin’ but it’s clear
that nothing chills the soul,
or turns your heart as black as coal
as when that evil ghost-laugh laundry edges beer.

When that evil ghost-laugh laundry edges beer,
your very reason starts to disappear.
It’s designed to be unkind
and it will make you lose your mind
when that evil ghost-laugh laundry edges beer.

In the bottom of Hell’s pit,
where the fires are always lit,
it is fair to say that it can raise a smile.
Though the air is sulphur-scented
and Beelzebub’s demented,
still, your soul is not tormented all the while.
For damnation, when eternal
and unbearably infernal
does not strike at the kernel of your fear.
That only happens when you’re frazzled,
by uncertainty bedazzled,
when that evil ghost-laugh laundry edges beer.

When that evil ghost-laugh laundry edges beer,
the precipice to madness drops down sheer.
Inhumanity, insanity,
the foulest, vile profanity
when that evil ghost-laugh laundry edges beer.
No there’s nothing down in Hades
that will scare the men and ladies
as when that evil ghost-laugh laundry edges beer.