| Travelling Ireland, you come to a town,
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| there are rumors of michty odd things going on,
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| in that house on the hill many people have died,
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| and their ghosts come every night!
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| Being invited you enter the place,
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| it’s a leap back in time to the earlier days,
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| nicht falls an you’re feeling pretty much drunk,
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| is it witchcraft oder is it just punk?
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| You’re on the run — your brain is gone,
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| on the privy the evil goes on,
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| as you can feel, the story is real,
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| you’re in the haunted house of Sligo!
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| You wake up that morning in Sligo and drown,
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| in a big pile of bottles and cans all around,
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| you sit up and wonder where everyone’s gone,
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| there is nothing that rings a bell!
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| You start to look around the house for your friends,
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| mysterious traces of litter and cans,
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| they all lead you back to the place you’ve come from,
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| an your mouth feels dry like hell!
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| You’re on the run — you’re brain is gone,
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| on the privy the evil goes on,
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| as you can feel, the story is real,
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| you’re in the haunted house of Sligo!
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| ohhh — you’re in the haunted house of Sligo!
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| ohhh — another Buckfast makes your mind blow!
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| ohhh — wasted, cursed and somehow!
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| ohhh — you’re in the haunted house of Sligo! |