The Song The Grave Sings

The grave sings a song soft and low.
It speaks of damp, and dark, and loam.
I hear it sweetly call me home.
Soon my bones to keep.

It beckons me come to a bed of earth.
Away from stature, status, and worth.
Quiet in this solemn berth.
To find my final sleep.

So let me alone and let me fade.
Let my memory become a shade.
Know that I was unafraid.
To take my hempen leap.

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