In screaming woods and empty rooms
or gloomy vaults and sunken tombs.
Where monks and nuns in dust decay
and shadows dance at close of day.
Where the bat dips on the wing
and spectral choirs on breezes sing.
Where swords in ancient battles clash.
And shimmering shades for freedom dash
Where silver webs of spiders weave
and blighted lovers take their leave
Where curses lay the spirits low
and mortal footsteps fear to go.
Where death holds life in grim embrace.
Its lines etched on the sinner's face
Where e'er the march of time is flaunted.
Voices cry "This place is haunted."