The Curious Case Of The Welshman

I know not the welshman that knocks on strangers doors then leaves/ who lurks in corners with creepy beady eyes/ who whistles with his mouth and smiles with his eyes/ I know not him who stares at peeping toms/ and he who waits in alleys waiting for the weak to folly/ A jolly man was he they said of this particular welshman/ until they found him laying dead/ his face was terrified and frozen/ and carved on his forehead we'll never forget, but rather lament/ were the words/ the welshman is here.