Here lays Edith Goldstein,
Devoted mother and wife,
May she ever rest in peace,
After such a lovely life.
But after funeral bells tolled,
And coffin doors locked shut,
Despite wishes of peacefulness,
Edith was anything but.
For when the clock struck midnight,
Until the eerie dawn,
They heard Edith moaning,
From the great beyond.
Her cries rose to banshee wails,
Chains rattled, cold winds tore,
Even through warm and sunny days,
Till they could take no more.
So they called in a medium,
To make some sort of guess,
Of what Edith had to say,
And put her soul to rest.
Ouija boards were consulted,
And seances were made,
All in attempt to find what Edith,
Asked from beyond the grave.
But forever doomed to march the earth,
She would never rest in peace,
For worry her oven was left on,
Or if her son was brushing his teeth.