here lie the bones of great aunt tillie
the morbid remains of a fine old filly
she strode the moors with her hair blowing wild
voice like a trumpet, heart like a child
old aunt tillie knew more than she spoke
a good cup of tea beats any old bloke
take your wand! take your kilt!
but give me good times
break my heart, take your leave,
but sing me good rhymes
i'll cackle and squeak
in the indigo night
and leap out behind you to give you a





FRIGHT

watch out

great auntie Tillie has been released from her sleep!