He played third twang in a rubber band,
His hair was mottled green;
He'd dance a jig to an old pipe tune,
And entertain with a croaking croon,
And tho' you searched o'er every land,
His like you've never seen.

His hat was strung with fairy lights,
His cloak was skin and bone;
He'd stamp and stomp as the pipe tune played,
And folks would cheer every move he made,
And tho' you searched the endless nights,
His like you've never known.

Oh he played third twang in a rubber band,
And tho' you searched o'er every land,
You would find no man of skin and bone,
His like you've ever known.