Zig-a-zig, zig-a-zig-a-zig,
Death knocks on the tomb with rhythmic heel.
Zig-a-zig, zig-a-zig-zig,
Death fiddles at midnight a ghostly reel.
The winter wind whistles, dark is the night;
Dull groans behind the lindens grow loud;
Back and forth fly the skeletons white,
Running and leaping each under his shroud.
Zig-a-zig-a-zig, how it makes you quake,
As you hear the bones of the dancers shake.
But hist! all at once they vanish away,
The cock has hailed the dawn of day.
But hist! all at once they vanish away,
The cock has hailed the dawn of day.
But hist! all at once they vanish away,
The cock has hailed the dawn of day.
But hist! all at once they vanish away,
The cock has hailed the dawn of day.
But hist! all at once they vanish away,
The cock has hailed the dawn of day.
But hist! all at once they vanish away,
The cock has hailed the dawn of day.
The magic midnight strokes sound clear and sharp. In eager chords of tuned pitch the fiddling ghost summons the dancing groups, where the single fife is soon followed by demon violins.
Broadly sings now the descending tune half-way between a wail and a laugh. And ever in interlude is the skipping, mincing step,—here of reeds answered by solo violin with a light clank of cymbals. Answering the summoning fifes, the unison troop of fiddlers dance the main step to bright strokes of triangle, then the main ghostly violin trips in with choir of wind. And broadly again sweeps the song between tears and