These are woodlandish Ghouls,
Damp, desolate souls
Who have nothing to do
But be haunting the dank tarn of Auber
Through the mildewest part of the year,
That begins at the end of October,
In the woodlandish Ghouldom of Weir.
Yes! these are the woodlandish Ghouls—
Ghouls—Ghouls—Ghouls—
With no business kind of controls—