Out on the hills,
There stands a house,
With no chimney pot,
And a squeaky mouse.

The area of the house,
Nobody goes near,
Because of the snakes and crows,
Everyone's worst fear.

Once you enter,
You never come out,
Inside there's a ghost,
Who's name is trout.

He looks through windows,
He haunts the halls,
Not making a sound,
As he walks through walls.

Nobody knows,
What's in this house,
But we do realise,
There are snakes, crows a ghost and a squeaky mouse.