Within the sacred place where death shall flirt,
The shroud of darkness gave cause to be blind.
He put shovel to ground, wind, rain and dirt.
While the leaves rattled like footsteps behind.
He dug down but there was nothing to find.
Then, hair stood up on the back of his neck.
The Grim Reaper of Death entered his mind,
Tore up his brain, made his body a wreck.
It had come time for him to pay the check,
And then without any warning at all,
Its blade stabbed through flesh came out his peck.
The Reaper answered upon masters call,
Slung him over its shoulder in the night,
and taking him as prize it fled from sight.
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