Waverley Stage Coach - Audience

If you go out tonight in Waverley Park

Don’t hail the carriage you’ll meet in the dark

Ain’t no call for laughter, my words you must mark

Or you’ll be on the Waverley Stagecoach

Some twenty years since or a similar while

The Mayor of the City, his wife and his child

They boarded the carriage but inside a mile

Were flung dead from the Waverley Stagecoach

They say that the wheels on the coach are bright red

Stained with the blood that’s come from the dead

The driver is fire and the horses are white

And it claims anybody that travels by night

You can laugh all you like but you’ll laugh on your own

There’s eighty-five people from this town alone

In a short twenty years have been murdered and thrown

From the cab of the Waverley Stagecoach