Ghost of Le Moulin

Ghost of Le Moulin Between Fabrezan to Tournasay where the cruel Cers wind blows, Lie’s maison le Moulin amongst the wine groves. Every year on certain night you can hear a child calling, twould cause a fright, She’s the Ghost of le Moulin. The villagers all know it and a man with a gun, spent the night there but didn’t he run. It’s hairy and scary a mystery to boot, now I’m a ghost hunter who’s after some loot. You can drink pastis in le Grand cafe but, disturb a ghost and you wilt pay. Breaking almonds in a Breton cap, for sweet nougatine wilt bait the trap. With lantern held high a crucifix too, I’ll pray fer the saints and Jesus the Jew. Regarde the Ghost of le Moulin, pretty girl with evil eyes, pock marked face hear her cries....! “Here’s some rope ta hang ye bye silly old man soon ta die, I’ll eat ya sweets, wear ya Breton cap, I’m the Ghost of Le Moulin”. Between Fabrezan to Tournasay where the cruel Cers wind blows, Lies maison le Moulin amongst the wine groves. Fabrezan, south of France, October 09