Down little quiet street in old house
 Was undertaker's office and as we're hanging around
 We were peering through the windows, staring at wreaths
 At white expensive coffins and cheap plain biers

 Once on a summer night about quarter to ten
 We heard a creak and in the doorway there was a man
 He grinning said: "Good evening, boys! Why don't [bad word] in?
 We gotta little party here, so won't you begin to

 Dance with the dead
 Swing with the dead
 Sway with the dead
 At undertaker's party

 Rock with the dead
 Roll with the dead
 Jump till you dead
 At undertaker's party"

 We [bad word] but our feet froze to the floor
 He pulled us in and there was no way back anymore
 We saw the corpses shuffling all over the hall
 The music started and we'd got to have a ball

 And we danced with the dead
 Swung with the dead
 Swayed with the dead
 At undertaker's party

 Rocked with the dead
 Rolled with the dead
 Jumped till we dead
 At undertaker's party

 The undertaker was a lonely man and that's why
 He made [bad word] for him of dead zombiefied
 We shared [bad word] and it's not a lick bad
 So [bad word] to the party where you can with the dead