On the lone bleak moor, at the midnight hour
Beneath the Gallows Tree
Hand in hand, The Murderers stand
By one, by two, or three!
And the Moon that night, With a grey, cold light
Each baleful object tips;
One half of her form, Is seen through the storm
The other half's hid in Eclipse!
And the cold wind howls, And the Thunder growls
And the Lightning is broad and bright;
And altogether, It's very bad weather
And an unpleasant sort of a night!