I was wandrin’ late at night around the grid laid out by Hoddle
I’d been drinkin’ down my troubles and my gait turned to a waddle
Past the Town Hall and Cathedral, with my eyesight going waxy
But I’d missed the last train and had no money for a taxi
But I muttered through my scarf that I’d make it home yet!
When some headlights approached, in a glide
With a glowing pantograph and a familiar silhouette
And the stop signs extended as the doors opened wide
- So I climbed on up inside, so that I could take a ride upon the

Ghost Tram, it’ll welcome you aboard,
but you never can alight despite how much you pull the cord
Ghost Tram, when your mortal days are done, you’ll no longer be in Zone One.

I started to suspect that this was transport underhanded
The passengers expressionless, but that’s just pretty standard
The décor was of woodgrain with a flash of green and yeller
A girl read Lonely Planet; the edition for Valhalla
And the conductor from Hell, with a manifest, confirmin’ us
(And I’d never seen a glare so dour)
He twice rang the bell, and sent us headlong to the terminus
At a speed of nearly thirty five kilometres an hour
- And my soul began to cower, as I realised the power of the

Ghost Tram, as it whooshes down the route,
you’ll see nothing through the windows of your terminal commute
Ghost Tram, though your journey is prepaid, it’s a fare you want to evade.

I tried to swipe my ticket, but it was already valid
I looked around the cabin, every countenance was pallid
Perhaps they need nutrition, perhaps it’s just a folly
But there weren’t any refreshments, or tea upon this trolly
And my instincts disparaging the current situation
In the flicker of incandescent light
Is this my means of carriage, or my final destination?
To be clinging to my strap for the eternity of night?
- We were squeezed in pretty tight, but everyone was so polite upon the

Ghost Tram, as it trundles down the track,
forever heading onwards, and never turning back
Ghost Tram, built of iron, wood and glass, it’s a hearseful of W-Class.

Ghost Tram, with its sparks and arcs a-strobe
hear the spectral voice of Batman, Monash, Fawkner and LaTrobe
Ghost Tram, where despondency is rife, it’ll take you on the ride of your life,
It’ll take you on the ride of your life.