There is no escape, the children they quake. As their mouths run free, with sugar on their knees, Hasan hides no more because the CANDYMAN is coming to score.

He smiles with joy as he sharpens his candy knife, Hasan Piker seems to be in a fright. As the CANDYMAN climbs closer to his bed, with little Turkish gumdrops dancing on his tiny curly head. Sleep in peace, little white sheep, the Candyman will wrap you in his frosted coffin made of Elite.

Fiddle-dee-dee Hasany, the Irish are mighty and surround thee. You never will know when the Candyman is coming at yee.

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