In the year of '89 assembled here the dungeoneers

In the days when the channels were few

Here the kids stepped out into the bluescreen studio

The dungeon's sights never seen

And Ross followed James

There were riddles, spells and games

And the floors paved (holes aside)

Down many a corridor; vales to cross; the Mills of Doom

None turned back, many feared, many died

Do you see your goal, though you're many rooms away

Have you fear of falling through?

Say the letters of the spell

Now it's Friday, find a well

Though you might not get past Level 2

In the year of '89 came a chap called Martin Toole

A dungeoneer whose home was York

And he brought good friends, and a punk joke that was corn

As a ghost, he'd float and not walk

For the phase is nearly done, surely Martin would have won

But for entomology

Beetle knowledge they did lack, here's their killer dressed in black

Morghanna's zap, that's a wrap, couldn't flee

Leo Smith did fall though not many rooms away

He was near to winning too

Treguard's letters: different spell

To acknowledge they did well

He was using UNITE for a few

Don't you hear Mike Cule? No he's many months away

He'll be here in Series 4

And before that were 12 teams

In a year of doom and dreams

'89

Still the best

Series 3