The Edison Museum, not open to the public

Its haunted towers rise into the clouds above it

Folks drive in from out of town to gaze in amazement when they see it

Just outside the gate, I look into the courtyard

Underneath the gathering thunderstorm

Through the iron bars, I see the Black Mariah

Revolving slowly on its platform

In the topmost tower, a light burns dim

A coiling filament glowing within



The Edison Museum, once a bustling factory,

Today's but a darkened cobweb-covered hive of industry

The tallest, widest, and most famous

Haunted mansion in New Jersey



Behind a wooden door, the voice of Thomas Alva

Recites a poem on a phonograph

Ghosts float up the stair

Like silent moving pictures

The loyal phantoms of his in-house staff

A wondrous place it is, there can be no doubt

But no one ever goes in

And no one ever goes out



So when your children quarrel, and nothing seems to quell them

Just tell them that you'll take them to the Edison Museum

The largest independently owned and operated

Mausoleum