Our dear one lies with wreathes around
And four brave hearts of pain
The garlic flowers and sleepless hours;
All suffering in vain
All suffering in vain…
By our love, our given blood
She’s beautiful in death
By confusion or illusion
Beautiful in death
And when we feared the end was near
All gathered at her side
We thought her dying when she slept
And sleeping when she died
And sleeping when she died…
By devotion and emotion
Beautiful in death
By our grief, our disbelief
She’s beautiful in death
Beautiful in death
Beautiful in death
During the past three days several cases have occurred of young children neglecting to return home from their playing on Hampstead Heath. In all reports, the consensus of their excuses is that they had been with ‘a bloofer lady'. We have just received intelligence that another child, missed last night, was discovered late this morning wandering on Shooter's Hill. Though weak and emaciated, the child again told the common story of being lured away by 'The
Bloofer Lady'. The police of the division, have been instructed to keep a sharp lookout on Hampstead Heath over the coming evenings, for many of the children, and indeed all those who have been missed at night, have been slightly torn or wounded in the throat.
Never did the bough creak
Never have the yew trees
Here embodied such funereal gloom
Something like a white streak
Flashing through the yew trees
Flits in the direction of her tomb
Now compelled; Helsing's bid
Wrenching off her coffin lid
Lucy walks, now undead
Beauty stalks in contempt of God
Hungry arms, wanton smile
Come to me, stay a while
Eyes unclean, crimson lips
Spattered shroud, teeth that drip with blood
By his hand, by something damned
She’s beautiful in death
By the stake, reconsecrate the
Beautiful in death
Hammer falling, rising
Bloody horror writhing
Only when it's done shall we depart
Still, she lies in beauty
Exorcised by duty
From the bottom of my broken heart