Ghost on the lake
She was killed by the Rake
On a cold lonely tuesday
Very close to the bay
When no one could hear her scream
Or see the Rake's eye gleam
It was this spot she cried out
But no one came, not even a boy-scout
Here at the lake near the fogged out cave
Is where the girl rests, her ghostly grave
So every year people hear echos of her cry
Near the very spot that she would die
