At last it's coming up, the sun    The bodysnatcher's day be gone    With blackened teeth and ruddy skin    And swigging long upon his gin    He's weak with his breaking back    The corpse he carries in his sack.    The bulging burlap caked with clay    Is foul yet musky from where it lay    Beside his shovel, oh precious rubble    Inside her cold and lonely grave    The mournful wind sings songs of praise:      How lovely she in her blue dress    Behold the tempting virgin flesh    Her sunken eyes filled with blind grace    Her shrunken lips with secret tastes...      For raven hair in tangles coiled    Upon white satin, he hath toiled.    He'd held her dainty feet and sighed...      The downy smooth upon her thighs      And wrapped within his fraying scarf    One little heart floats in a jar...    Swaying quiet now lifts his head    This robber stops to toast the dead    And pray will he in town lust waits    For paid he'll be by pounds just weighed...    This night he'll roam the streets of mud    He's slushing down these roads of blood    Tonight he'll own the meat and mud    This night he'll roam the streets of mud    HE'S SLUSHING DOWN THESE ROADS OF BLOOD    Tonight he'll own the meat and mud    HE'LL DRINK THESE STREETS    HE'LL EAT THIS BLOOD      How lovely she in her blue dress    Behold the tempting virgin flesh    Ravished only by one called       Death