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