There's an old bearded man who lives in my attic.
It sounds rather silly, but really it's tragic.
See, he keeps me awake with his moving about as he creaks and he squeaks and he moans and he pouts.
He's been up in that dust 'long as I can remember
just scaring bejeebies
and shivering timbers.
Then last Tuesday eve'nin'
I could hardly believe it:
he just got plum lonely and payed me a visit.
And as weird as this sounds, I swear that it's true
the old bearded man is no stranger than you.
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