It's an old old house
Winding stair and all
And there's a portrait of Isabel
Down a dusty hall

She's in her favorite chair
With her favorite books
One would be Jane Eyre
The other Buddenbrooks

When the clock strikes eight
Down the winding stair
Come the wedding guests
Who are not quite there

At the stroke of nine
The orchestra appears
Ghostly mandolins
That you can't quite hear

When the clock strikes ten
Here's the bride in white
Though she's hard to see
In the flickering candlelight

With her shadow groom
She glides across the floor
Of the old ballroom
To fade a little more

When the clocks strikes eleven
For man and wife
No sharper words under heaven
No sharper knife

As from the bridegroom's eye
There flows a blood red tear
To see the wedding guests
Begin to disappear

When the clock strikes twelve
As well it must
We'll trust all's well
When all returns to dust

Just remember love
Our two souls are one
With their own damned notions
Of when our love is done

It's an old old house
Winding stair and all
And there's a portrait of Isabel
Down a dusty hall

Recorded on: Anthology One