When the Saints Go Marching In

de David Snell

Pardon, goddess of the night
Those that slew thy virgin knight
For the which, with songs of woe
Round about her tomb they go
⁠Midnight, assist our moan
⁠Help us to sigh and groan
⁠Heavily, heavily
⁠Graves, yawn, and yield your dead
⁠Till death be uttered
⁠Heavily, heavily

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