• There he is walking, walking
    He comes walking quietly, softly, silently
    In his dark cloak, and with his mysterious ways
    I watch him from my window as the clock goes tick, tock
    Who is he?
    He is said to be a legend
    But is he?
    He is coming closer and closer
    He is walking through the whistling willow tree as the harsh wind blows
    He walks up to the old inn door
    In the pale moon light you can see his calm face
    When he knocks my father answers
    And that silent, dark, mysterious, legend has asked for me