Hark how the cries,
as the living die,
all seem to say,
doom comes today

Bradmas is here,
bringing death near,
to young and old,
meek and the bold.

not long, not long
until we’re all gone
with morbid ring
all collapsing.

One seems to hear
whispers of fear
from everywhere
filling the air.

Oh how they pound,
raising the sound,
o’er hill and dale,
telling their tale.

Glumly they cry
while people die
whispers of fear,
Bradmas is here.

Bloody, Bloody, Bloody, Bloody Bradmas,
Bloody, Bloody, Bloody, Bloody Bradmas.

On on they send,
on without end,
their mournful tone
to every home.

Doom doom doom… doom!

It was the night before Bradmas
And all through the house
not a creature was speaking
for they all had no mouths

Their lips were sewn shut
with the greatest of care
so none could scream
when evil arrived there

Young Bradley was sleeping
all snuggled in bed
While visions of murder
danced in his head

When out from the world
arose such a clatter
Young Bradley got up
to see what’s the matter

And what to his wondering
eyes did appear
but Octothorpe’s face
instilling nine kinds of fear

Before him lay bodies
both living and dead
and those that still breathed
lived in pure dread

The blood flowed all night
and into the morning
His wrath was most brutal
and came without warning

And when he was done
He took to the sky
And through blood stained lips
he boldly did cry:

“Your time on this Earth
is but a blink of an eye
so savour this Bradmas
FOR YOU’RE ALL GOING TO DIE”