In hallowed halls

of sacred bones,

Golgothas ring

with hollow tones;

the haunted melody –

strains of ghostly measure.

The floating sound

that echoes deep,

it seeps round corners

where the dead don’t sleep;

they’ve heard the song –

and wakened to dance again.

Ancient joints that

creak and pop,

as skeletons start

to caper and hop;

feeling the music –

as they glide through tombs of treasure.

Old bones jig

to a lively tune,

the dead CAN dance

beneath a mystical moon;

bony digits snap --

to keep time with a haunting violin.

Whoever said

the dead

never have fun?

They can dance

as well as anyone!

And when the song

is over and done,

they’ll rest again

till the next song’s begun.

The Bard of the Dead

will lower his strings,

and get back to doing

his plain, ‘deadful’ things,

grinning his ever-present,

smooth and ghastly white smile,

knowing that sometimes

the dead NEED to dance,

and his magical music will

give them that chance;

a way to give all the old bones

a semblance of life again

for awhile...

~ C.L.R. ~