Ghosts
I know you well my dear
She said "˜you're shaking
On the lips, hun
Your shirt's a shade of green
Now dance like you mean it
On the lips, hun'
A letter from the Blacksmith's son
Silence in the rectory walls
The ghosts that we know walk at 3am
While you're awake on the other side
My dear you were willing
The square it was filling
On a Friday night
You crowd round ice buckets
Drank until you dreamed
On a Friday night
Get off your horse and count to ten