The table on this side—crammed with all sorts
Of bottles, boxes, glasses, and retorts;
Mysterious music here—in sharps and flats,
And just in front we’ll put that bag of cats,—
That bag of cats, now, was a fine idea.
Stage R. Low music, cats, and thunder over here.
That side is weird enough—now on the right
Stage L. A horrid darkness, now and then a light.
Which, when it flashes, shows a heap of bones,
And when it don’t, why then we’ll utter moans.