There once was a fellow named Phantom
Who'd find boring people and haunt 'em
They swore he would pay
For the death of Buquet
And the death of Piangi didn't daunt 'em.
There once was a nitwit named Raoul
Who I've always found to be foul.
He took poor Christine
From that underground scene
And caused my poor Erik to howl.
It started when Raoul, that jerk,
Saw Christine doing her daily work.
"Oh, bravo!" he cried
As the singer he spied,
And developed a lovesickness quirk.
When he went to investigate her
He discovered some man planned to date her.
He heard in her room
A voice from the tomb,
Well, he didn't find that out till later.
He heard them and opened the door,
And saw that they were there no more!
She had gone in the mirror,
And therefore was no nearer
To Raoul than she had been before.
Christine, in an underground moat,
Sang songs with the Ghost in a boat.
When they reached the right spot,
The boat was now naught,
Which was fine, for it couldn't quite float.
She found herself, strangely, instead,
In a sort of a form of a bed.
She heard Erik's songs
And she floated along
On the music he wrote in his head.
She went to sleep, but when she woke,
She wondered "Who is this who spoke?"
So she crept up behind
And she felt quite inclined
To take off his mask as a joke.
He whirled around, calling her names.
It appeared this one was not a game.
"Is this what you wanted?
To see me thus haunted
By this face of incredible shame?"
And then his voice softened just slightly.
Poor Christine had found him unsightly.
He sent her back home,
Free to sing, free to roam,
As long as she'd visit him nightly.
Meanwhile, back at the stage,
Firmin and Andre were quite in a daze.
Notes were coming by post
All signed "Opera Ghost"
From his underground, labyrinth maze.
Of Firmin it clearly demanded
That his salary quick be expanded
To keep clear of Christine
And to not steal the scene
Or else all would be quite reprimanded.
But the managers had much to learn
Though to obey, Giry did learn
Their flaws were unfurled
Buquet, not long for this world
Christine, the lead role, she did earn.
As Christine returned to light of day,
Raoul's stupidness got in the way.
She tried to avoid
The young freakazoid,
But he finally had his own say.
"I say," said the jerk, "why don't we
Get engaged, but secretly?
That way we won't care
About the underground lair,
Because never learn truth shall be he!"
Ignoring her boyfriend's odd phrase,
Christine put a hand to her face.
"But he knows it all!
If this info should fall
Into his hands--death to this whole place!"
Christine wouldn't budge from her view,
But Raoul too well his girlfriend knew.
He whined and complained,
'Til, with expression pained,
She assented, "Whatever! Adieu!"
He handed her a golden ring--
A gaudy and expensive thing.
'Twas clasped to her heart,
"I never will part
With this trinket," she started to sing.
Well, Erik, that clever young chap,
Heard this speech just before a late nap.
In fury unseen
He yelled threats at Christine
Then dropped a chandelier in her lap.
Who'd find boring people and haunt 'em
They swore he would pay
For the death of Buquet
And the death of Piangi didn't daunt 'em.
There once was a nitwit named Raoul
Who I've always found to be foul.
He took poor Christine
From that underground scene
And caused my poor Erik to howl.
It started when Raoul, that jerk,
Saw Christine doing her daily work.
"Oh, bravo!" he cried
As the singer he spied,
And developed a lovesickness quirk.
When he went to investigate her
He discovered some man planned to date her.
He heard in her room
A voice from the tomb,
Well, he didn't find that out till later.
He heard them and opened the door,
And saw that they were there no more!
She had gone in the mirror,
And therefore was no nearer
To Raoul than she had been before.
Christine, in an underground moat,
Sang songs with the Ghost in a boat.
When they reached the right spot,
The boat was now naught,
Which was fine, for it couldn't quite float.
She found herself, strangely, instead,
In a sort of a form of a bed.
She heard Erik's songs
And she floated along
On the music he wrote in his head.
She went to sleep, but when she woke,
She wondered "Who is this who spoke?"
So she crept up behind
And she felt quite inclined
To take off his mask as a joke.
He whirled around, calling her names.
It appeared this one was not a game.
"Is this what you wanted?
To see me thus haunted
By this face of incredible shame?"
And then his voice softened just slightly.
Poor Christine had found him unsightly.
He sent her back home,
Free to sing, free to roam,
As long as she'd visit him nightly.
Meanwhile, back at the stage,
Firmin and Andre were quite in a daze.
Notes were coming by post
All signed "Opera Ghost"
From his underground, labyrinth maze.
Of Firmin it clearly demanded
That his salary quick be expanded
To keep clear of Christine
And to not steal the scene
Or else all would be quite reprimanded.
But the managers had much to learn
Though to obey, Giry did learn
Their flaws were unfurled
Buquet, not long for this world
Christine, the lead role, she did earn.
As Christine returned to light of day,
Raoul's stupidness got in the way.
She tried to avoid
The young freakazoid,
But he finally had his own say.
"I say," said the jerk, "why don't we
Get engaged, but secretly?
That way we won't care
About the underground lair,
Because never learn truth shall be he!"
Ignoring her boyfriend's odd phrase,
Christine put a hand to her face.
"But he knows it all!
If this info should fall
Into his hands--death to this whole place!"
Christine wouldn't budge from her view,
But Raoul too well his girlfriend knew.
He whined and complained,
'Til, with expression pained,
She assented, "Whatever! Adieu!"
He handed her a golden ring--
A gaudy and expensive thing.
'Twas clasped to her heart,
"I never will part
With this trinket," she started to sing.
Well, Erik, that clever young chap,
Heard this speech just before a late nap.
In fury unseen
He yelled threats at Christine
Then dropped a chandelier in her lap.