The bell on my door rang this morning

From the kitchen I called who's that there

Through the letter box came a grappling hook

Which grappled me right out of my chair

Stretched out on the floor I lay helpless

Of my limbs I had lost all command

When into my ear in stilling fear

Said a voice "I am Monsieur R. Monde"



Monsieur R. Monde you are not

That's an incredible thing to say

Why I personally attended his funeral

Which was twelve months to this very day

A rat flew down from the ceiling

Alighted upon my right ear

Said if Monsieur R. Monde is safe under the sod

Then why are you shaking with fear



My name is not Scrooge I said faintly

And from ghosts I have nothing to fear

But if you are R. Monde returned from the dead

Then what are you wanting here

From nowhere I heard a mad cackle

From nowhere a voice to me cried

"Stop calling me Monsieur R. Monde, you fool

My name's Jeckyll and you're Mr. Hyde