The Devil came down to Sandpoint,
One cold December night.
He’d spent the day, in his own sweet way
Looking for a child to fright.
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He’d travelled high, he’d travelled low
Hunting a lonesome child.
But none he’d found, as he made his round
and he was sorely riled.
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He found his way to Hagfish Bar
And saw the fish above
Then bold as brass, he dipped his glass
And took a sup thereof.
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The devil’s face gave in to fear
his pot began to churn
Then like a klutz, he spewed his guts
his mouth began to burn.
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I’ve had it here, the devil cried
and headed to the door
I’m going back to Devil’s Plat
And won’t come here no more!