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.
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