We loaded up the flatbed with the steel guitar and bass, To play the harvest social at the spooky county place. The corn was high, the moon was red, the cider was a-flowing, By midnight in the graveyard, we were tired and we were going. Then the ground began to tremble and the crypt began to crack, A dusty silhouette arose and blocked the Cadillac! He smelled of ancient spices and he didn't want to roam, So we looked at one another and we shouted out our poem: Let's wrap up the mummy and go home! Yeah, let's wrap up the mummy and go home! We got pickin' left to do, but we're frightened through and through, So let's wrap up the mummy and go home! Our fiddle player, Billy, dropped his bow right in the dirt, As the bandages unwrapped and brushed against his flannel shirt. That pharaoh raised a bony hand and let out quite a groan, While stomping to a rhythm that would chill you to the bone. He wanted us to square dance in the crypt against our will, With scarabs in his pockets and a curse that wouldn't kill. We didn't come to jam with kings from underneath the loam, So we grabbed our spare acoustic and we started yelling home: Let's wrap up the mummy and go home! Yeah, let's wrap up the mummy and go home! We got pickin' left to do, but we're frightened through and through, So let's wrap up the mummy and go home! We threw a tarp around him like a roll of fencing wire, And shoved him in the back beside the spare truck tire. We slammed the tailgate shut and hit the highway with a roar, And left the ancient monarch stranded on the country floor. Now Halloween is over and the band is safe in town, With banjo strings a-rattling and no more ghouls around. We learned a lesson playing where the shadow monsters roam, And whenever things get eerie, well, we sing this little poem: Let's wrap up the mummy and go home! Yeah, let's wrap up the mummy and go home! We got pickin' left to do, but we're frightened through and through, So let's wrap up the mummy and go home!
