The Town Called Pysht

There once was a ghost town called Pysht;

Perched near a small river with fysht;

Not much there to see,

It's quite anomaly

but

If its tree falls on you, you're squysht

OK, I'm not right in the head--we won't quibble about that.

I was researching old ghost towns for a new novel I'm working on and came across this uniquely-named gem. How can you notice a town called Pysht and not be charmed? 

Not that it's not already well-known that Washington has more than its fair share of oddly-named-and pronounced cities. Puyallup, Sequim, Spokane, you all know those. But I had never heard of Pysht before. 

Spread all across the country are small towns like this: former mining towns, towns that just missed the highway bypass, towns built around a business or entertainment venue that died. Every time I see one or read about one of these towns, I get a spooky, other-world feeling. Especially when I see rickety remnants of buildings, homes, tools, toys and other possessions lying around. I feel hushed, like I want to soak in all of the history, and listen for the stories of the spirits that linger there. 

But instead I'm inspired to pen an atrocious limerick.