Overview
There are few who’d deny, at what I do I am the bestFor my talents are renowned far and wideWhen it comes to surprises in the moonlit nightI excel without ever even tryingWith the slightest little effort of my ghostlike charmsI have seen grown men give out a shriekWith the wave of my hand, and a well-placed moanI have swept the very bravest off their feetYet year after year, it’s the same routineAnd I grow so weary of the sound of screamsAnd I, Jack, the Pumpkin KingHave grown so tired of the same old thingOh, somewhere deep inside of these bonesAn emptiness began to growThere’s something out there, far from my homeA longing that I’ve never knownI’m a master of fright, and a demon of lightAnd I’ll scare you right out of your pantsTo a guy in Kentucky, I’m Mister UnluckyAnd I’m known throughout England and FranceAnd since I am dead, I can take off my headTo recite Shakespearean quotationsNo animal nor man can scream like I canWith the fury of my recitationsBut who here would ever understandThat the Pumpkin King with the skeleton grinWould tire of his crown, if they only understoodHe’d give it all up if he only couldOh, there’s an empty place in my bonesThat calls out for something unknownThe fame and praise come year after yearDoes nothing for these empty tears
Jacks Lament
Jack The Pumpkin King