I once spent a summer painting covered bridges.
It was such a hot summer I wasn't sure I'd survive.
I thought maybe I might die
of heat stroke or maybe dysentery.

I did not know how I'd get dysentery,
but I thought that I would surely, surely die,
and then they'd find an excuse for it.
Even if it wasn't really dysentery,
it would still be on my death certificate.

I did not know exactly
what would kill me, don't you know?
I thought that bridge was haunted,
just like I saw on that scary show.

I wanted to run away
and stop painting that bridge,
right that day.

But I still needed a paycheck,
so I could eat my food.
And I get so hungry,
and I really, really like my food.

I was still young and wasn't yet married,
and had no, no, no, no kids.
It was just me and my cat
and that was how I did it.

And I painted that bridge.
And I thought I sometimes saw a ghost.
A ghost of a man who died while painting,
yes, that vary bridge.

And sometimes a stray cat would wonder by,
as if looking for that vary ghost.
And sometimes a stray cat would wonder by,
and look so sad when it saw the ghost.

I'm pretty sure that stray cat,
once belonged to that dead man.
I'm pretty sure that stray cat,
wanted something like a litter pan
in a lovely house with good, good food.

I did not know how that man died,
but he died, I'm sure, painting that bridge.
The very bridge I painted there.
And it scared me, each and every hair.

That very same bridge there
and so I ran away,
and I did not die that day.