Transcribe
Translate
Fantasy Digest, v. 1, issue 2, February 1939
Page 4
More information
digital collection
archival collection guide
transcription tips
DEAD MEN'S COUNCIL by Orth A Bell Deep 'neath the base of a tombstone, In the cold ground far below, I dwell in a house on the street of death, With coffins row on row. All day the corpses slumber, And then, when falls the night, We rise to earth and frolic Mid the tombstones gaunt and white We sit on the graves and whittle, Swap stories by the score, And tell each other how we died At home, at work, at war. We laugh at our names on the headstones, We laugh at the two grim dates, At the stately populars we gurgle with glee, They try to be so sedate Our death robes are of the shearest, You mortal men would freeze, But we chucle and grin and the wintry wind As it wails in the graveyard trees Our sense of pain is departed And our pulse has long since gone We grin as we claw at each other's eyes And solemnly sing Death's song We have all the spirits of children A deal of quick action we crave We play catch after dark with our very own heart As we scamper about o'er the graves
Saving...
prev
next
DEAD MEN'S COUNCIL by Orth A Bell Deep 'neath the base of a tombstone, In the cold ground far below, I dwell in a house on the street of death, With coffins row on row. All day the corpses slumber, And then, when falls the night, We rise to earth and frolic Mid the tombstones gaunt and white We sit on the graves and whittle, Swap stories by the score, And tell each other how we died At home, at work, at war. We laugh at our names on the headstones, We laugh at the two grim dates, At the stately populars we gurgle with glee, They try to be so sedate Our death robes are of the shearest, You mortal men would freeze, But we chucle and grin and the wintry wind As it wails in the graveyard trees Our sense of pain is departed And our pulse has long since gone We grin as we claw at each other's eyes And solemnly sing Death's song We have all the spirits of children A deal of quick action we crave We play catch after dark with our very own heart As we scamper about o'er the graves
Hevelin Fanzines
sidebar
