Burial

Burial

If on a dark and sultry night

Some charitable Christian soul

Should find a rubbish dump and put

Your once proud body in a hole,

When the chaste stars no longer watch

And sleep has weighed their eyelids down,

There will the spider weave her webs

And the viper bear her spawn;

Above your cursed head you will hear

Wolves with their long lamenting howls

Night after night, throughout the year,

And starving witches mumbling spells,

Old lechers playing dirty games,

And shady ruffians plotting crimes.