Dolly’s sister had been the belle of the ball.
All the eligible bachelors had their eyes on her.
She was the pretty one, sweet one, kind one.
And with a little help down the stairs from Dolly,
she was also now the dead one.
Dolly spun in her dead sister’s dress,
All eyes would be on her now:
the poor girl who lost her sister.
Dolly froze midway down the hall.
The spectre of her sister stood at the steps,
It knew Dolly would have to go down the stairs