The warder looked out at the mid-hour of night,
Where the grave-hills all silently lay;
The moon-beams above gave so brilliant a light,
That the churchyard was clear as by day:
First one, then another, to open began;
Here came out a woman - there came out a man,
Each clad in a shroud long and white.
There's a house upon the hilltop
We will not go inside
For that is where the witches live,
Where ghosts and goblins hide.
Witches flying past on broomsticks,
Black cats leaping here and there,
White-robed spooks on every corner,
Mournful moaning in the air,
On a dreadful stormy night
My dear Tommy had a fight
With great Peter Snookum Snee,
Cat of fighting pedigree.