You see that old house up there?
Standing there up on that small hill
It's the one with that old rocking chair
When you look at it, do you feel a chill?
A chill running down your spine,
Striking you with a sense of fear.
The sight is something you can't define
But the sight alone will make your eyes tear.
The history behind the house is lost,
The people in town, do not yet know.
How the house had survived the frost.
Now there always sits a crow.
A crow sitting on the old rocking chair,
Guarding the house like it's owner did.
In the crow's eye is a small tear,
Looking where it's owner hid.