Act Two - When the night wind howls
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When the night wind howls
In the chimney cowls
And the bat in the moonlight flies
And inky clouds
Like funeral shrouds
Sail over the midnight skies
When the footpads quail
At the night bird's wail
And the black dogs bay at the moon
Then is the spectres holiday
Then is the ghosts' high noon
As the top of the breeze
Sweeps over the trees
And the mists lie low on the fen
From gates and stones
Are gathered the bones
That once were women and men
And away they go
With a mop and a mow
To the revel that ends too soon
For cock crow limits our holiday
The dead of the night's high noon
And then each ghost
With his lady toast
To their churchyard beds take flight
With a kiss perhaps
On her lantern chaps
And a grisly grim goodnight
Till the welcome knell
Of the midnight bell
Rings forth its jolliest tune
And ushers in our next high holiday
The dead of the night's high noon