The Ghost of Lady Bennet

The manor house is sleeping, the moon is shining bright.
A little boy is listening to the noises in the night.
Tawny owls are hunting, there’s a distant fox,
A creak upon the landing, ticking of the clocks-
Lie low! Lie low!

Is it mice beneath the floorboards, starlings in the eaves,
Wind around the gables, raising piles of leaves?
Underneath the covers, fingers in his ears
A little boy is shaking, whispering his prayers-
Bow low! Bow low! It’s Lady Bennet.

I wish I’d never heard the story about her wicked life
And how that evil butcher sliced her with his wicked knife
They say that murdered souls can wander, shut outside the gates of Hell,
Looking for someone to listen and hear the sorry tale they tell.

The manor house is sleeping, the night has grown so cold.
Adam Barnes is creeping nearer to the gold
There’s a step upon the staircase, a prowler in the Hall,
“Who’s there?” cries Lady Bennet. There’s no answer to her call-
“Who goes? Who goes?”

Lady Bennet’s waiting, a spider in her lair.
In the glimmer of a candle, Lady Bennet’s there.
Adam Barnes is startled, he strikes and makes it good,
A tradesman used to killing, and carcases, and blood.
Lie low! Lie low, my Lady Bennet.

I wish I’d never heard the story about her store of gold
Not a penny did I find there no fortune as I was told.
The hue and cry so quickly followed, no mercy did they show to me
I’m waiting for the hooded hangman beside the gallows tree.

The manor house is sleeping the moon is shining bright.
A little boy is listening to the noises of the night-
Lie low ! Lie low!