That shocking room is haunted now; it may not raise a shock in you,
But every dark November eve, there comes a shrouded cockatoo,
And gliding in his pallid shirt, a wretched spectre doth rehearse,
The record of his oathings dire! the cockatoo then shrieks a curse!
The man of easy habits then will see the deadly deed anew,
Of how the neck was wrung by him, who slew his aunt, her cockatoo.
The man of easy habits then, will see the evil sprite of gloom,
Come prowling for his guilty soul, and bear it down the trap of doom.
The landlady can never make the lodgers in that room content,
They never stay, beyond the day that she has asked them for the rent,