Deacon:
Let's hurry away
And never look behind
To see if her eyes
Are dead and blind,
To see if the quilt
Lies over her face—
Perhaps she'll groan
Or move in her place!
House:
The room is empty
Where the old woman lay,
And I no longer
Smell like a tomb—
Landlady:
Doctor, deacon,
Can you say
Who'll pay rent
For the old woman's room?
* * * * * * *
House:
The room is empty
Down the hall,
There are mice in the closet,
Ghosts in the wall—
A pretty little lady
Comes to see—
Woman:
Oh, what a dark room,
Not for me!
Landlady:
The room is large
And the rent is low,
There's a deacon above
And a doctor below—
Deacon:
When the little mice squeak
I shall pray—
Doctor:
I'll psycho-analyse
The ghosts away—
Landlady:
The bed is large
And the mattress deep,
Wrapped in a feather-bed
You shall sleep—