A Ride With Death
At twelve o'clock in the mist of the chilling night,
by Treba Sue McCutcheon
While gently the wind blows the leaves off the trees and out of sight;
Silence falls across the darkness of the land,
And every living creature hides behind the trees and in the sand.
All the world comes completely to a stop.
Life itself seemed just to flop. Off in the distance comes hoofs of clatter,
As the whole world itself seemed to shatter.
Clip, clop, clip, clop . . . it comes nearer and nearer,
And the dark world brings fear upon more fear.
Something down the road is coming,
Riding on a black horse that is running. Round the bend of the road comes a chilling cry;
You could see the thing as it passed by.
It was wrapped in a black cape,
It's ghostly hands you could not escape.
You could see that it had a skeleton face,
And now you wish that you could leave this place. It turns around at the bend,
And as it comes back by, it grabs your hand.
Fear grips you deep inside,
As you take off with death for a ride.
Yes, off with death you have gone,
And your body was left back there all alone. Death is taking you down the road he came,
You disappear into the shadows, who's to blame?
The world watches behind you to see your end;
Who's going to notify your near of kin?
Throughout the land is heard a blood-thirsty cry,
So this is your end, your good-by.