Black shoes, black coat, black top hat,
Black room, black atmospheric chat
A room two thirds full one third empty
Hush now, whisper the crowd and settle back
The proceeding begins
No man free of his sins
No unnerving horror to be foretold
No illuminating light, nor flash of gold
“family, friends” the old priest begins
Some of them cry whilst most of them sneer
“the death of this man, an unfortunate case”
A total stranger, with a masque face
An early death of the man in this coffin
Who fought a struggling battle that he did not win
Was murdered last week
Who’s murderer we seek
The thud of a chair as it fell to the ground
An accusing finger sped round
“she is the one who handled the blade,
Her hands are stained red from the blood and stain”.
Excitement runs through the crowd
Now that the murderer has been found
Sniffing trouble like hounds
Everyone suddenly spins round
Coming face to face with the blade of death
As everyone breaths in their last breath.
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