A play on the old folk song.
My grandfather's clock stopped when the old man died.Nothing could restart it. Six feet of frozen-solid works.
When the clock started back up with the first full moon we were concerned.
His tomb had been opened and his body - missing!
We looked down and saw his footprints leading out to... to...
He was out and on the prowl, one of the living dead.
We followed his tracks right up to the first tree.
He'd walked straight into it and knocked himself out.
We sealed him into the tomb, still moving.
Clock's worth more when it runs, you know.
