| Zig, zig, zig, Death in cadence
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| Striking a tomb with his heel
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| Death at midnight plays a dance-tune
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| Zig, zig, zag, on his violin
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| The winter wind blows, and the night is dark;
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| Moans are heard in the linden trees
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| White skeletons pass through the gloom
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| Running and leaping in their shrouds
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| Zig, zig, zig, each one is frisking
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| You can hear the cracking of the bones of the dancers
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| A lustful couple sits on the moss
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| So as to taste long lost delights
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| Zig zig, zig, Death contines
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| The unending scraping on his instrument
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| A veil has fallen! |
| The dancer is naked
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| Her partner grasps her amorously
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| The lady, it’s said, is a marchioness or baroness
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| And her green gallant, a poor cartwright
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| Horror! |
| Look how she gives herself to him
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| Like the rustic was a baron
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| Zig, zig, zig. |
| What a saraband!
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| They all hold hands and dance in circles
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| Zig, zig, zag. |
| You can see in the crowd
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| The king dancing among the peasants
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| But hist! |
| All of a sudden, they leave the dance
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| They push forward, they fly; |
| the c*** has crowed
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| Oh what a beautiful night for the poor world!
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| Long live death and equality! |