Yours is the tight grip on my shoulder

Mine is the fear of your ice cold hand

Ours is the secret that you were a sailor

Plucked from the sea then thrown on land

You were the one who broke the fast

And drank the wine from Satan's flask

And the storm did roar

And the sea did swell

You swore you heard the devil's bell

That calls men to the ocean's floor

Where sailors dance a jig no more

Yet you battled on and made for home

But satan's curse caressed you bones

When you reached this house the fever struck

You were not blessed with a sailor's luck

Now you're dead you can't leave this place

A lonely ghost who fell from grace

The seeds you sowed will keep you here

But hear me, there'll be no more fear

You're invisible but I don't care

That your purgatory's too hard to bear

Turn around and find the door

Haunt this haunted house no more

(c) David Stansfield 2009