(Edgar, brokenhearted, mopes around his family manor. He finds himself ruffling through an old suitcase in the attic.)
NARRATOR: The old trunk in the attic Where grandmother’s broken heart was tossed In a box with a ballet shoe And dead soldier’s cross
The old trunk in the attic With the candlesticks your great uncle saved From the girl in the market Whose mother he once paid to go away
The old trunk in the attic With a dress for a child but hardly worn Stained in a memory and tears For a name you’ll never learn
The old trunk in the attic Where your grandfather’s glass eye lays to rest Your sweet aunt’s nostalgia And Annabella’s formula for raising up the dead Annabella’s formula for raising up the dead Clever mother Annabella with her clever head Annabella’s formula for raising up the dead