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There was this little boy named Johnny.
That took a dare.
To go to this house,
But he wasn't scared.
On Ash Tree Avenue,
He'd find it there.

They pointed up to this house
Up on the hill.
It was creepy,
And gave him a chill.
You know this house they say,
Is made out of bones.
But fearless Johnny,
He went all alone.

The doors opened,
Before he could even knock.
And close behind him,
Silently locked.
He meandered about,
Searched the place.
For any comforting thing,
Not a trace.
No sign of life anywhere,
But cobwebs everywhere.
But then there was this low growl
In the air.
Johnny scrambled
Tried to find his way back,
But he couldn't
And he looked and he looked.

But the house.
Was dark.
And moving around him.
But the house.
Was dark.
And laughing at his fear.

All had gone askew,
On that Ash Tree Avenue.
That house of flesh and bone
Would be his tombstone.

Johnny ran all through the house,
Shut all the doors.
He's screaming.
The house roars.

All had gone askew,
On that Ash Tree Avenue.
That house of flesh and bone
Would be
His tombstone.

All had gone askew,
On that Ash Tree Avenue.
That house of flesh and bone
Would be
His tombstone.

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