The bell on my door rang this morning From the kitchen I called who's that there Through the letter box came a grappling hook Which grappled me right out of my chair Stretched out on the floor I lay helpless Of my limbs I had lost all command When into my ear in stilling fear Said a voice "I am Monsieur R. Monde" Monsieur R. Monde you are not That's an incredible thing to say Why I personally attended his funeral Which was twelve months to this very day A rat flew down from the ceiling Alighted upon my right ear Said if Monsieur R. Monde is safe under the sod Then why are you shaking with fear My name is not Scrooge I said faintly And from ghosts I have nothing to fear But if you are R. Monde returned from the dead Then what are you wanting here From nowhere I heard a mad cackle From nowhere a voice to me cried "Stop calling me Monsieur R. Monde, you fool My name's Jeckyll and you're Mr. Hyde"