'Neath the burial chambers you see
As the hail beat a rhythm on me
It was grand to be dry in that storm
I set off at seven to be there for eleven
The voice I had heard, not another word said
As the wind got into a scream
The rain it came down and like stones beat the ground
Not a body was there I could see
When the ghostly voice bid me the night
I pushed up the hill, the rain started to spill
And I stared at the tree that had spoken to me
One Saturday night, I get up on me bike
Songwriter: Terence Woods
I was dreamin' away about better days
For weeks and weeks after with nerves a disaster
And from dusk through the night I would shake with the fright
Nowhere near that road would I go
So for shelter I had to resort
And a strange tale I'll tell to ye
Of the tree that had haunted me so
No thought of the rain comin' down
And I said an "Our Father" as I peddled much faster
Sit down on that stool, hear the can't of a fool
I pulled up me bike, be a tree in the gripe
To find shelter out of the storm
But I go be a different way
When a voice, it says, "Dirty old night"
Away from that ghost haunted tree
Of a time that I lived at the buff of a hill
But you jumped up with a start, gave the storm not a thought
I trembled and shook the tree, twisted and booked
I fell over me bike, I got such a fright
I make sure not to stop on the way
Helter-skelter I went as downhill I sped
And I grabed for me bike in that devil's owned night
To the trees at the old fairy fort
As the hair on the head stood on me
For to go to a dance in the town
Expecting to wake from a dream
Now, whenever I go to a dance in the town
Publisher: SPZ MUSIC INC
To be there for eleven, I still leave at seven