Exhumed — Defenders of the Grave

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Текст Exhumed — Defenders of the Grave

«Resurrection men, your fate deplore,
Retire with fore vexation,
Your mystery’s gone, your art’s no more,

No more your occupation :
Surgeons no more shall ye ransack
The grave with feelings callous
Tho’ on the Old Bailey turn’d your back,
Your only hopes the gallows»
Mr. Diben The Patent Cof in 1818
Stalk through hallowed headstones
For notes and coin, trade flesh and bone
Your eternal rest may, become nocturnal wrest
The newly deceased, still bereaved
Snatched from their peace, taken without leave

Truncated repose, for the decomposed
Adamantine clasp of the mortsafe, the muddy bonds of earth
Patent coffins do not vouchsafe, calm repose beneath the turf
Stone walls do not a prison make, nor six feet of sod a grave
Pray the lord your soul to take, you’ll need defenders of the
Graves’ occupants, so dearly prized
But to butcher, not to eulogize
To rest they were laid, now sold under the blade
Who turns the key to the mortsafe, when the sexton stuffs his purse?
Nightwatchmen cannot vouchsafe, calm repose beneath the turf
Stone walls do not a prison make, nor six feet of sod a grave
So pray the lord your soul to take, you’ll need defenders of the grave
Defenders of the grave, hallmarks of this ghoulish age

Defenders of the grave, defenders of the
Stone walls do not a prison make, nor shovels full of sod a grave
So pray the lord your soul to take, you’ll need defenders of the grave
Defenders of the grave, hallmarks of this ghoulish age
Defenders of the grave, defenders of the grave