Waiting at the rivers edge,
She stood as still as stone,
The maiden dressed in silver thread,
Her voice an icy tone,
Her eyes aflame with a joyous glee,
As the dead come into sight,
Dragged from the grave at her decree,
And eager for the light,

And death still waits at the water's edge,
Guarding the River Stix,
Eyeing the clock among the sedge,
And counting it's tocks and ticks,
She dances for joy at the dead's mournful hail,
Grateful for the company,
They'll pass the time as the boat sets sail,
Floating to eternity.