The cold, cold hand of Lady Death
Beckoning from beneath her
spectre dress
Fingers like bone, skin cold as
stone
Knock, knock... twice if you hear
Upon thy door that keepes our
Dreams from wake
But dear one, if she doth knock
thrice
Another must cross to the
Other-Side
Through the Veils , the door opens Beyond
With the cold, cold hand of Lady
Death.
Jewelled rings glitter, nestled
amongst her chattering bones
Bean Sidhe, her breath doth call
with a deathly moan
Hallowed be thy crossing Beyond.
Hark, dear one... theyr is another
knock at the door
It is Life, her warm hand grasps
Death’s in hers
Fingernails no longer a blood,
blood red
Warm once again
Life arisen from Dead
Across the threshold to begin
once more
The journey, the adventure within
Another chance to Experience
The Beauty and Wonders they have called
Life.