Knocking and knocking on my bedroom door.
It was a hurried knock I've never heard before.
Perhaps it is mother and nothing more.
And yet I don't answer the door.

The next night was the same, except there was groanin'
It was louder and louder and I had awoken.
Perhaps it was mother, though I'm sure she hadn't spoken.
And still I don't answer the door.

The next nights were quiet. I couldn't complain.
Until I heard the dreaded knocking again.
Perhaps it was mother with her horrible pain.
Her moaning and banging made there way into my brain.
I was scared, more than before.
And because of that, I didn't open the door.

It had been...