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The trailing poem follows:
And here is the dead one that shall rise:Silent is his heart, and stilled in his frozen chest.
Sealed are his lips with the silence of death, as his eyes.
He lingers in this world and he cannot find his rest.
Who is he? The dead one that shall rise.
Silently his frozen chest once more draws breath
And his eyes and mouth are sealed no longer.
Back in the world, but nor in life, nor in death,
Who is he? A restless wraith of yore.
And the storyline poem follows:
I chant in my tomb, in darkness cold,
And smell the blood of foes; from the grave
I rise and haunt -- restless wraith of old
I am and their blood, blood, blood I crave!
Swift and painful revenge on the foe:
With or without God, my revenge they'll know!
And so I chant: at nightfall I'll go,
My brothers, my kin I will wake
From their sleep, and I'll bite of their soul
And wraiths just like me I will make!
Swift and painful revenge on the foe:
With or without God, my revenge they'll know!
Then on the foe's blood we will go and feast
With sword and axe we will wreck his shape
And nail him in pain until his heart hath ceased
As a wraith like us he shall not escape!
Swift and painful revenge on the foe:
With or without God, my revenge they'll know!
And in darkest hell his soul we'll lock away
With hate and with malice we'll press on his tomb;
Until his last hope hath died in dismay
And the fear of our fangs upon him shall loom!
Swift and painful revenge on the foe:
With or without God, my revenge they'll know!
