When the footpads quail and the nightbirds wail,
As a riderless horse bounds across the bay
You're in Astoria Park, and the sky is dark
The Hell Gate Kid is on the way.
As bodies fly in the nighttime sky
And ghostly pirates hunt for gold
The "Hussar" hoves into Hallet's Cove
With a spectral cargo in its hold
As "Slocum's" sirens wail its flaming cargo
from Hell
And the ghost's high noon casts a deathly spell.
The sawlady witch plays an uncanny tune
While a black dog howls at the moon.
When whirlpools churn, and the mist comes in
And electric eels fly in the nighttime sky.
Spectral undead leave their bed
And search for bones left behind.
When you hear the quicksand moan and you feel alone
and you see a vampire with a xylophone.
An eerie canoe paddles towards you
with dreamtime spirits playing the didjeridoo
Do not run away,
its all just play
For its the Hell Gate Kid
on holiday!
*by Bob Singleton with apologies to Gilbert & Sullivan
