In the graveyard waiting still

Sits a shriveled, wrinkled, shrew

Patiently amidst the chill

She sits there waiting, just for you.

From the peasants to the priests,

She does not care your revenue,

Even come the birds and beasts

To where she’s waiting, just for you.

There is none that will escape,

Nor any thing which we may do

To frantically avoid this fate,

She sits there waiting,

Patiently, for you.