Wow! this is all great stuff. The Monster Mash words and a new verse to "the worms crawl in". Great, thanks all.

Speaking of not quite folk, my Celtic group always throws these two in around this time of year:

With Her Head Tucked Underneath Her Arm

In the Tower of London large as life
The ghost of Anne Boleyn walks, they declare.
Poor Anne Boleyn was once King Henry's wife
Until he made the headsman bob her hair
Ah, yes he did her wrong long years ago
And she comes up at night to tell him so

With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the bloody tower
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour
She comes to haunt King Henry
She means giving him what for
Gadzooks! She's going to tell him off
She's looking very sore;
And just in case the headsman
Wants to give her an encore
She's got her head tucked underneath her arm.

With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the bloody tower
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour
The sentries think it's a football
And when they've had a few they shout,
"Is Army going to win?"
They think that it's Red Grange
Instead of poor old Anne Boleyn,
With her head tucked underneath her arm

Sometimes gay King Henry gives a spread
For all his pals and gals, a ghostly crew
The headsman carves the joint and cuts the bread:
Then in comes Anne Boleyn to queer the do,
She holds her head up with a wild war whoop
And Henry cries, "Don't drop it in the soup!"


With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the bloody tower
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour
One night she caught King Henry,
He was in the canteen bar.
Said he, "Are you Jane Seymour, Anne Boleyn, or Catherine Parr?
For how the sweet Sam Perryham do I know who you are,
With your head tucked underneath your arm!"


Thank you, Janet, for these words (and for teaching us all the rest too)


And consider yourself well snookered before you sing this next one:


Look At the Coffin

Look at the coffin with golden handles
Isn't it grand, boys, to be bloody well dead?

Chorus:
Let's not have a sniffle, let's all have a bloody good cry,
And always remember the longer you live, the sooner you'll bloody well die.

Look at the mourners, bloody great hypocrites,
Isn't it grand ......

Look at the preacher, bloody sanctimonious,
Isn't it grand ......


Sounds like this song could go on a lot longer than just these three verses.

Judy