The Haunted House

I say, I say the best, you know how you ended, come out here. He's close, and he's very late for us. Oh well, never mind then.

I don't want to tell you that you're bidden, supposed to be haunted. I don't suppose that'll worry you. Breakfast at nine, if you're alive to eat any. Goodnight. Oh, and he's still fucked up. He can't think of it.

He's in my mother's throat, he could keep away from. He could hear us, reek, and your legs be weak. He's a haunted house.

Then the dismo moan like a weird trombone, and the old handbone This suddenly thrown you are all alone with a great unknown In the haunted house There's only one good spirit It's the spirit in the bottle With shaking hands you pull a cork And pour some down your throat The bank of chains of the spell of trains

And the gory stain with a dew plus lane If you've got your planes and pattico's fame In the haunted house From the old old beam-hanks courts you seem To feel that stream with a sinister gleam And you wait with a scream from a horrible dream Of the haunted house With a dreadful leered type of disappear to the ship

And nearing a thing we feared as a chandelier It's a haunted house The air is full of clammy flons of blood Chew by the collar So gargle night and morning Just in case you have to holler There are lights and sprites and awful Frights and flash-pin sights For the dead of night Cuts the woman in white

So you're quite alright In the haunted house When the old church box Brice dwells as a knock with a sudden shop You remember the lock on the door The croc-o while you mock at the haunted house.