Haunting

Sit down on that stool, hear the cant of a fool
And a strange tale I'd like tellin' to you
Of a time that I lived at the buff of a hill 'neath the burial chambers, you'll see
One Saturday night I got up on me bike for to go to a dance in the town
I set off at seven to be there at 11, no thought of the rain coming down

I pushed up the hill, the rain started to spill so for shelter I had to resort
Helter-skelter I went as downhill I sped to the trees at the old fairy fort
I pulled up my bike be a tree in the gripe to find shelter out of the storm
The rain it came down and like stones beat the ground
It was grand to be dry in that storm

I was dreamin' away about better days when a voice, it says, "Dirty ould night"
I fell over me bike, I got such a fright when the ghostly voice bid me the night
I jumped up with a start gave the storm not a thought
As the hail beat a rhythm on me
And I stared at the tree that had spoken to me
Not a body was there I could see

I trembled and shook the tree, twisted and booked
As the wind got into a scream
And I grabed for me bike in that devil's owned night
Expecting to wake from a dream
The voice that I heard, not another word said
As the hair on the head stood on me
And I said an "Our Father" as I peddled much faster
Away from that ghost haunted tree

For weeks and weeks after with nerves a disaster
Nowhere near that road would I go
And from dusk through the night, I would shake with the fright
Of the tree that had haunted me so
Now whenever I go to a dance in the town, I make sure not to stop on the way
To be there for 11, I still leave at seven but I go by a different way