Death and the Lady
[a broadside ballad set to the melody of The Cruel Mother as sung in 1885 by Eliza Wharton and her brothers—gypsy children]
Fair lady, lay your costly robes aside.
No longer may you glory in your pride.
Take leave of all your carnal, vain delight.
I’m come to summon you away this night.
What bold attempt is this? Pray let me know
From whence you came, and whither I must go.
Shall I, who am a lady, stoop or bow
To such a pale-faced visage? Who art thou?
Do you not know me? I will tell thee, then:
’Tis I that conquer all the sons of men;
No pitch of honour, from my dart, is free.
My name is Death. Have you not heard of me?
Yes, I have heard of thee time after time,
But being in the glory of my prime,
I did not think you would have come so soon.
Why must my morning sun go down at noon?
Talk not of noon. You may as well be mute.
This is no time for vain dispute.
If Death command the king to leave his crown,
He, at my feet, must lay his sceptre down.
My heart is cold. It trembles at the news.
O, for these bags of gold, pray me excuse.
Release thou them whose sorrows are so great,
But spare my life to live a longer date.
Though some, by age, be full of grief and pain,
Till their appointed time, they must remain.
I take no bribe. Believe me, this is true.
Prepare yourself to go. I come for you.
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