Children play outside each eve
In dance and games the way they do.
Near the graves they end with
Hide-and-seek around each tomb.
Once sun has set the games move on
While supper cools from nightly bend.
The children keep with fun so long
Their sweat does linger in the wind.
When white appearance moves in dark
As gliding on the ground with ease;
Beauty streaks from death’s appeal,
And wisest children make their leave.
Her beauty does persuade a few
To continue under moonlit beams.
Her lips are redder than darkest rose;
Her whitened teeth are razor sharp,
And gleam in light frail of the dark.
Among the flesh they wish to cleave!
She drinks of them as one does wine
Savoring where liquid flows.
Hellfire swells deep within her eyes.
Her touch does prick like thorn of rose.
Children are found when morning shines
Their strength is lost with weakened veins,
And parents holler with each cry
‘Where have you been since yesterday?’
The children answer with a sigh,
‘The bloofer lady came to play.
The bloofer lady came to play.
She played with us the whole night through;
Her kiss is fresh from wicked night
Where darkness clouds beneath the moon.
Our necks are torn from lips soft kiss
Where darkness clouds beneath the moon.’