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The D'Oyly Carte Opera Company
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When the Night Wind Howls
SONG– SIR RODERIC MURGATROYD
When the night wind howls
in the chimney cowls,
and the bat in the moonlight flies,
And inky clouds,
like funeral shrouds,
sail over the midnight skies –
When the footpads quail
at the night-bird's wail,
and black dogs bay at the moon,
Then is the spectres' holiday –
then is the ghosts' high-noon!
Ha! ha!
Then is the ghosts' high-noon!
As the sob of the breeze
sweeps over the trees,
and the mists lie low on the fen,
From grey tomb-stones
are gathered the bones
that once were women and men,
And away they go,
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with a mop and a mow,
to the revel that ends too soon,
For cockcrow limits our holiday –
the dead of the night's high-noon!
Ha! ha!
The dead of the night's high-noon!
And then each ghost
with his ladye-toast
to their churchyard beds take flight,
With a kiss, perhaps,
on her lantern chaps,
and a grisly grim 'good-night';
Till the welcome knell
of the midnight bell
rings forth its jolliest tune,
And ushers in our next high holiday –
the dead of the night's high-noon!
Ha! ha!
The dead of the night's high-noon! Ha! ha! ha! ha!
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