Bedtime Story

Doth the worms crawl, at the witching hour,
Through the eyes of a dead man, sight unseeing!
Yeah, but the dead, feel no pain, see not again,
And the dead, are truly dead, and unfeeling.

Aye, and do the mice, gnaw the bones,
That have lain, bleached and dry?
In coffins, and out of sight?
Yes they gnaw, but thats not all!
The souls they be unreaching,

But the bones, the bones, the brittle bones,
The worms are really cleaning!

The mold is clinging, to the skull,
Which is singing singing!
But without any, really, feeling!
A droll tolling song, to all of the living dead!
So close your shades, and keep a light,
As you jump in bed!!