Who is that standing at the gate?
Why is he out so very late?
He’s staring into my bedroom
A solemn figure in the gloom
Why does he wear that hooded robe?
Hiding from the streetlamp’s globe?
His presence fills my soul with fear
What is the reason he is here?
Then all at once I have a clue
I see now what he’s here to do
And then my stomach starts to writhe
As light glints on his curving scythe
The figure walks towards my door
I feel that I can stand no more
And from my throat there comes a scream
Which wakes me from my nightmare dream