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Lyrics

Behind a yellow lit window at the back of the square
A wizened old man with ashen grey hair
His grandfather clock strikes the hour of twelve
The puppets are hanging from hooks on the shelf
The Burgemeister is staggering home
The Child-catcher, he walks on alone

A hoary wretch with murderous intent
Who glanced over his shoulder where'er he went
Is taking a knife from a sawdust filled drawer
Then he walks down the hall to the twisted wood door
But while he is upstairs there is movement below
The patter ottiny feet, louder it grows
They're climbing the stairs with painted fixed grins
Axes in hands, arms on jointed crude pins

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Next morning the puppets are back on their shelves
And they find the old man who kept to himself
But a new puppet hangs inthe bay window now
Its garish red face stares at the wires from its brow

Writer(s): PAUL ROLAND

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