Danse Macabre

Danse Macabre

By Sir William G. C. Pratt

Death sits on his throne of bone
With decaying violin,
Playing out his eerie tones
Of destruction, hate, and sin.
Skeletons rattle and dead men groan,
As they dance to the music din.

Lo the Reaper rules the dead
With his violin in hand.
Souls of dead all stained blood red,
With hearts like cold wet sand,
Dance and swirl in this graveyard world,
All under death’s command.

Death doth rule the darkness,
While cacophony rings out.
Spirits haunts the darkness,
They twirl and spin about.
Evil stalks the darkness,
Til’ cocks crow drives it out.

As the sun doth mount the sky,
Death slinks back to his tomb,
To wait once more the day to die,
At the rising of the moon.
Then he in triumph shall arise,
Bringing forth the doomed.

(As channeled by ArjaiH (RJH))