Down the streets of the eastern parts of our kingdom Ghosts haunting all the little isles that my eyes have seen Ghosts among the masses rushing down Main Street A little ghost is hiding in the merchant's sack of gold
There are ghosts in the corners of the city Ghosts infest the provincial town of sad
There are ghosts echoing all around me They're rattling out the closet as she opens the door To the past after peeking into the keyhole of the future Oh, dear haunted ancestry of mine
There are ghosts in my songs and my sweet love's charm Voices are ghosts in the pale and hazy afternoon
Ghosts sweep the shores out westward Ghosts in every school yard of the North Down in the marshlands Even the petty hole where I was born; it ain't spared
