I come, old friend, from hell tonight, across the rotting sea. Not the nails of the cross nor the blood of Christ can bring you help this eve. The dead have come to claim a debt from thee. They stand outside your door four score and three.

You remember when the ship went down, you left me on the deck. The captain’s corpse jumped up and threw his arms around my neck. For all these years I’ve had him on my back. This debt cannot be paid with all your jack.

And as I sit and talk to you, I see your face go white. This shadow hanging over me is no trick of the light. The spectre on my back will soon be free. The dead have come to claim a debt from thee.