The Lady In The Well

Oh dear me mister I'm quaking in my clothes
I'm so scared of being unconscious or dead
You'll taint my mind, with awful thoughts
Made into flashing scenes I dread

You might poison the water I drink
Or have thick needles upright hidden in my bed
You might set a ghoulish banshee on me
To slice my head off with thread

You can send a mob to hurt me
With so many sticks and stones
They could hang me on a stake
After breaking all my bones

And if you're not finished
You can come and find me by your own
13th Elm Street, Fellow's Walk
The house with the thousand gnomes

But if you look down the well
A sorry sight I say, you'll see
A tangled mess, in a wedding dress
Dear mister, that mess is me