Cemeteries can be scary  
Passing by whistling a tune
With the shifting of the shadows
Below the glow of a blood moon

Tombstones whisper their owners names
While trees creak in the winter breeze
As both my mind and my eyes
Play ghastly tricks on me

The sound I fear, I hope I hear
Is that of a lone Owl
And not a hootenanny
Of Ghostly Spirits on the prowl

It's hard to keep these knocking knees
From giving out in protest
As my racing heart skips a beat
Imagining what will come next

As I pass by this graveyard
Whistling the driest of tunes
Cemeteries can be scary
Below the glow of a blood moon