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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