Ding dong, dong ding dong!
Soon as the midnight hour strikes,
The pale moon sheds around her light,
And all the graveyard waxeth white.
What seest thou, Ringer, in the close?
Ding dong, dong ding dong!
What seest thou, Ringer, in the close?
"I see the dead men wake and sit
Each one by his deserted pit."
Full thousands seven and hundreds five,