All Gal­lows is past
And All Hal­lows is here,
Death suc­ceeded by life,
Water fol­lowed by beer.
And the saints ever­last,
In their Lord who is vast —
While the ghoulies are shown
To be sub­stance­less fear,
Our odd­ments and ritual
But humanly queer,
And our dark super­sti­tion
A bit daft and quite dear.
For the holies above
And the mor­tals below,
Both bone dance and
Lung lift are but a show,
One points to the need
And the other the end —
Where we drove up the debt,
Where the Lord chose to spend.
All Gal­lows is past
And All Hal­lows is here,
Death suc­ceeded by life,
Water fol­lowed by beer!
Sing a song to the saints,
And ye be of good cheer!
For All Gal­lows is past
And All Hal­lows is here!

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