Out here in the pumpkinpatch beneath the dirt I hide To kill unknowing farmers and to strip them of their hides Such an unlikely place for atrocities of this kind My secret slaughterhouse is here in the garden's where I thrive (Bridge) The orange goblins speak to me in the night As the moon casts shadows the pumpkins come to life (Chorus) Pick-axe in my hand, plunged into your back Slicin off your arms and legs, murder in the punpkinpath tonight... Dug many a shallow grave The soil isn't very ripe I like it when they scream so loud and beg for their lives Such an unlikely place to rip out someone's spine My secret slaughterhouse is here in the garden's where I thrive (Bridge) (Chorus) (Repeat chorus) Murder in the pumpkinpatch tonight! (x3)