Zigger-zigger-zig           tapping on a coffin
here's the figure Death      with a toothy grin.
On the stroke of twelve plays a crazy polka
zigger-zigger-zag                on his violin.

The night is dark,  the winter winds blow
the tree-branches creak in the stormy clouds
and the snow-white skeletons off they go
they run and they leap in their flowing shrouds.

Zigger-zigger-zig            how they skip and toss
dancing to the beat       rattling every bone.
Now a randy pair    lie down on the moss
hoping to repeat            pleasures they had known.

Zigger-zigger-zag              Death is keeping at it
scraping out the tune     on his violin.
Two have lost their wraps they are dancing naked
he gives her a squeeze    like a carnal sin.

The lady they say is of noble race
her partner a lad from the market town
but oh! she yields to his close embrace
as if the young boor had a royal crown.

Zigger-zigger-zig               hand in hand a-dancing
what a host of dead       waltzing on the turf
zigger-zigger-zag           in their ghostly party
is the king himself       romping with a serf.

But hush!   all at once   their hands  let go.
They jostle   they flee       they've heard the cock crow.
Oh wonderful night         when poor folk are free!
So all praise to Death  and Equality!