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Whoís living in the hanged manís house
 
Whoís been cooking dead cat for his tea,
behind the cracked windows black with soot?
 
We can see the smoke rise from the end of the lane,
out through the gaps in the cocked chimneypot.
 
You, itís your dad, heís dumped the new tart
and come back to the village to live.
 
No, itís your big sister, the zombie,
she was here by the fire all of last night.
 
No, itís the ghost of that smelly old man,
who swung for three days before he was found.
 

 

 

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