There was an old wife and she lived all alone
In a cottage not far from Hitchin:
And one bright night, by the full moon light,
Comes a ghost right into her kitchen.

About that kitchen neat and clean
The ghost goes pottering round,
But the poor old wife is deaf as a boot
And so hears never a sound.

The ghost blows up the kitchen fire,
As bold as bold can be;
He helps himself from the larder shelf,
But never a sound hears she.

He blows  his hands to make them warm,
And whistles aloud 'Whee-hee!'
But still as a sack the old soul lies
And never a sound hears she.

From corner to corner he runs about,
And into the cupboards he peeps;
He rattles the door and bumps on the floor,
But still the old wife sleeps.

Jangle and bang go the pots and pans,
As he throws them all around;
And the plates and mugs and dishes and jugs,
He flings them all to the ground.

Madly the ghost tears up and down
And screams like a storm at sea;
And at last the old wife stirs in her bed
And it's 'Drat! Those mice,' says she.

Then the first cock crows and morning shows
And the troublesome ghost's away.
But oh! what a pickle the poor wife sees
When she gets up next day.

'Them's tidy big mice,' the old wife thinks,
And off she goes to Hitchen,
And a tidy big cat she fetches back
To keep the mice from her kitchen.