The sheeted dead did squeak and gibber,

In the streets of Rome,

The outward form of the spirit,

a tall spirit in a white sheet,

Walked at the most approved ghostly hour,

A man slept soundly ,

He didn't care for the angels and all his angels,

A horror, an apparition of something dreadful,

Confusing noises of screams and groans,

The door was open,

He saw a man holding up his light,

Suddenly while he lay with terror,

He knew the Thing was gone,

He sprang out of bed,

Pulled on the door, 

It was locked shut,

Now he cared,

For no one could bear,

The horrors of this sick room.