I wonder where they come from,

I wonder where they go,

I wonder who might use them,

as they hurry to and fro.

Is a ghost abroad at night?

Does it haunt this secret place?

I can hear its shuffling feet,

but I cannot see its face!

So ancient are these steps,

So stony cold and bare,

In the heart of old Vienna,

By a bleak and wintry square.