We are sat drinking
‘Old Speckled Hen’,
out of cooled tins
in the summer’s cold rain,
we talk of the last house,
a ghost we recalled,
when we each met
the ghost in the hall.
We are sat drinking
‘Old Speckled Hen’,
out of cooled tins
in the summer’s cold rain,
we talk of the last house,
a ghost we recalled,
when we each met
the ghost in the hall.