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Ghost

de Clutch

The leather soles go shuffling in
Stinking of smoke and ten cent gin
Now who will toast our noble host
That has this morning given up the ghost?

The wooden coffer hand to hand
Kind words are offered, silent prayers
But she is satisfied the most while
Stabbing madly at the roast

The rib of Adam, the eyes of Eve
The sons of Cain receive no reprieve

The creditor rides with his men
The death of debtors he won't forgive
They repossess his silver eyes
Now in the potter's field he lies

The rib of Adam, the eyes of Eve
The sons of Cain receive no reprieve

Waiting for a dead man's shoes
Have you heard the latest news?
Lazarus is back from the dead
Looking as one would expect
Dripping with the waters of Sheol
Babbling about body and soul
And then he found his wife in their bed
Buck naked and already wed

The tax collector beneath his sheets
The door swings open. Floorboards creak
Now who will toast our noble host
That has this morning given up the ghost?

The rib of Adam, the eyes of Eve
The sons of Cain receive no reprieve

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