By strange coincidence, a thunderstorm had been brewing,
When Mahon doing his grisly work at the bungalow,
Was dealing with the most grisly job of all,
The head, the woman's head.

He had severed it from the trunk,
Built a huge fire in the sitting room, placed her head upon it,
Then, then the storm broke
With a violent flash of lightning and an appalling crash of thunder.

As the head of Emily Kaye lay upon the coals,
The dead eyes opened, and Mahon fled out to the deserted shore.
When he nerved himself to return,
The fire had done its work.
The head was never found...

Copyright: BMG Rights Management
Writer(s): TOM ELLARD