V.1
These visions of a lady
who rides the cemetaries
on a horse, binding the fresh dead
with her silvern tongue...

On her wrists gold bracelets
catch the light of the gas lamps
and her eyes, on certain nights
reflect the moon's.

Ca.1
Through the red hills
Toward the rusty sea,
There lay the longboats
Waiting us merrilyyyy
...
..
yyyy D 11th or whatever
Waiting Merrilyyyy
To bear us to sea-yyyy

V.2
Oh she is motherlike and sweet
binding with grave-dirt each, their feet,
wrapped in oils, for them to tread
whilst trimming the sails.*

"Moon over the yardarm",
She whispers and pulls from her cloak
thick libations stoppered in crystal,
the blood of the moon.

Cb.1
Through the red reefs,
On, out to sea,
my bones are borne before her
In their lead ossuary.  (a-f-a)