I am he that walks in the graveyard, Strolling in the moonlit fields, Welcoming the dead souls to their graves, And dancing with starlit joy and waving lilies.
I show the path to the world of Guinee, Where dead souls may rest their weary heads, After the long struggle of life, So that they can carouse without worry, And relish in the absence of which.
I am he that condoles the dead mortals, With lewd and lascivious acts of pleasure, So they can shed their skin of pompousness, And indulge in all the revelry of whores, And bathe in the failed genteel of bastards.
Proffer your wanton holes, Present your up-lifted staffs, And make revelry in the light of aphrodisia, And make yet more men and women and children, So that they may know my baseborn delights, And celebrate in their life and eventual death, Where they may meet I whose name is Samedi, And bathe in my afterglow.
