Wandering as the clock struck twelve
Down a moonlit lane
Silently across the fields
The gliding figure came
Frozen colours of green and blue
Wrapped in a crimson gown
It came toward us step by step
Then quietly turned around
Martha had a violent death
Whilst laying on her bed
A crook or vandal entered in
And shot her, shot her through the head
And ever since that day I've heard
As each moon passes by
She wanders through those endless fields
Just searching for that guy
Churches, bells, they do tell echoes acroos the moor
Echoes across the moor
Moon is high in the sky refleting what I saw
Refleting what I saw
Rising slowly, eerily and laughing as it went
It was true the tale I heard
The ghost of Martha Kent
I ran back towards the town to tell what I had seen
But then who would believe, they'll say it was a dream

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