The darkness gathered and cloaked like a shroud,
Terror grips at throats, there are inward screams, but not out loud.
Now the Death Watch has begun,
It will last until the rising sun.
A corpse is on a table, surrounded by grieving kin,
The enchanted time when the living and dead blend.
Pennies placed upon eyelids, to hide a blank stare,
Knees shake with terror, at just being there.
The dead man had put up a valiant fight against an unseen foe,
But The Grim Reaper had won again, and made the terrified man go.
The rattle of death was heard, as he had tried to breathe,
Wild horror masked his face as the Reaper made him leave.
Rumor has it, his demise was caused by his unfaithful wife,
She daily dosed his tea with poison, it finally took his life.
Now the beautiful widow, smiles beneath her black veil,
There were no tears of sorrow, in her well acted out travail.
Suddenly a gust of wind, blew the candles out,
Then a ghostly figure began to rant and shout!
Rigor Mortis made the corpse rise,
Terror filled the gathered mourner's eyes!
The widow rushed to push the corpse down,
Lamenting," Ralph, you are dead and will be buried in the ground!"
Rigid arms clutched her throat and all felt The Reaper near,
Then the dead man whispered," Yes, I shall be buried and you will accompany me, My Dear!"

MUSIC: Don't Fear The Reaper