The shed

There's a shed at the bottom of our garden With a spider's web hanging across the door, The hinges are rusty and creak in the wind. When I'm in bed I lie and I listen, I'll open that door one day.

There's a dusty old window around at the side With three cracked panes of glass, I often think there's someone staring at me Each time that I pass, I'll peep through that window one day.

My brother says there's a ghost in the shed Who hides under the rotten floorboards, And if I ever dare to set foot inside He'll jump out and chop off my head, But I'll take a peek one day.

I know that there isn't really a ghost, My brother tells lies to keep the shed for his den; There isn't anyone staring or making strange noises And the spider has been gone from his web since I don't know when, I'll go into that shed one day soon, But not just yet...