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Newcastle, 1649

Occult forces are on the rise

From across the wall he comes

To hunt these heathen scum

Hang them high, hang them low

Swing them from the gallows pole

Witchpricker, coming for you

Witchpricker, Nothing you can do

Bring the witches, put them all to trial

Pin prick upon their thigh

If their blood, doth not flow

They are black magic's child

Hang them high, hang them low

Swing them from the gallows pole

Witchpricker, coming for you

Witchpricker, Nothing you can do

*Trial*

Hang them high, hang them low

Swing them from the gallows pole

Witchpricker, coming for you

Witchpricker, Nowhere you can run

Witchpricker, Nowhere you can hide

Witchpricker, I sentence you to die