Poor Miss Ramona seen the devil and ran out of breath , she screamed in confusion as she fell to her death , she'll be looking in your window come cool weather if you fail to get to sleep , you'll get a maniacal , glaring image the likes you've ne'er ever dreamed
The wise-man shan't be cracking a window in the month of November
Nor leaving lit candle for it'll only tempt her
Best be preparing for sleep at sundown , paying the constable to keep a lookout
Dousin' yer fire , addin' extra quilt , stuffin' ears with cotton with a second shot o' sleeping cider
Latchin' ones door smart 'n ketch'n up on yer Bible* ...