A dreary night,
It's full of dread;
The rain hits the roof with all it's might,
It could wake the dead.
I pace the halls of this antiquated
house,
Outside their is a great assault,
But inside, I'm quiet as a mouse,
Restless in my fear, I can not halt.
No matter where I go in that great abode,
I can't escape the telephone ring;
I fear I must reap what I sowed,
And answer that damned thing.
He's dead, I put him under the floorboards,
His sins had become greater than THAT sin;
To the state hospital, surely I am a ward,
Because when I lift the receiver, it is my husband on the other end.
