The Old Corpse Road

Through glens and thickets, o'er moors and heaths
The funeral procession, marches on
O'er fens and swamplands, and down winding paths
To the destined hallowed ground.

From dawn till twighlight and on through the night
The treacherous death parade continues on
The arduous trek to the burial site
Only guided by candlelight.

Haunted by fairies and wraiths
And spirits of the deceased
Even the dead may not be at rest
On the old corpse road.

Flowing like rivers along the straight ground
The flitting spectres wretched sound
Even the dead may not be at rest
On the old corpse road.

Even the dead may not be at rest
On the old corpse road.

Haunted by fairies and wraiths
And spirits of the deceased
Even the dead may not be at rest
On the old corpse road.

Flowing like rivers along the straight ground
The flitting spectres wretched sound
Even the dead may not be at rest
On the old corpse road.

No other route or path the we may take
Unploughed and bare they cannot stray
Non-linear trails are carefully laid
Labyrinths and mazes the wraiths dissuade.

At the journeys end, with the cemetery in sight
The coffin is set down on the stone to rest
And at the toll of the lych gate bell
The travellers now rest, another to peace in death.

Haunted by fairies and wraiths
And spirits of the deceased
Even the dead may not be at rest
On the old corpse road.

Flowing like rivers along the straight ground
The flitting spectres wretched sound
Even the dead may not be at rest
On the old corpse road.