The Desecraters

Witness all: that unrepenting,Feathers flying, music high,I go down to death unshakenBy your mean philosophy.

For your wages, take my body,That at least to you I leave;Set the sulky plumes upon it,Bid the grinning mummers grieve.

Stand in silence: steep your raimentIn the night that hath no star;Don the mortal dress of devils,Blacker than their spirits are.

Since ye may not, of your mercy,Ere I lie on such a hearse,Hurl me to the living jackalsGod hath built for sepulchres.