You PRESS THE EYES on the statue's face
And the tombstone opens wide
To damp and gloom -and perhaps your doom!
With a prayer you step inside.
 
You grope your way down a winding stair,
With a borrowed candle for light.
Dangling cobwebs brush your hair
And shadows confuse your sight.

The cold dank air and the sense of dispair
Make you think of Sir Roger's curse -
Is it a vampire, a ghost or a ghoul
Or something that's even worse?
 
The time has come to make up your mind:
To go on, and to do your best,
Or give up and go back and close the tomb
And leave Sir Roger to rest.

Do you want  to GO ON? Or do you want to QUIT?