| The bell on my door rang this morning
|
| From the kitchen i called «who's that there?»
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| Through the letter box came a grappling hook
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| Which grappled me right out of my chair!
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| Stretched out on the floor i lay helpless
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| Of my limbs i had lost all command
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| When into my ear instilling fear
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| Said a voice «i am monsieur r. |
| monde»
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| «monsieur r. |
| monde you are not!
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| That’s an incredible thing to say
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| For i personally attended his funeral
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| Which was twelve months to this very day!»
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| A rat flew down from the ceiling
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| Alighted upon my right ear
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| Said «if monsieur r. |
| monde is safe under the sod
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| Then why are you shaking with fear!»
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| «my name is not scrooge"i said faintly
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| «and from ghosts i have nothing to fear!
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| But if you are r. |
| monde returned from the dead
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| Then what are you wanting here?»
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| From nowhere i heard a mad cackle
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| From nowhere a voice to me cried
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| «stop calling me monsieur r. |
| monde you fool!
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| My name’s jekyll and you’re mr. |
| hyde!» |