What is dead must stay buried.
What is freshly dead must be carried
to the grave, and down the hole.
Where judgment begins on its soul.
If this ritual is obscured,
What comes of it cannot be cured.
Its flesh will rot upon the ground,
and all that will be heard is a high-pitched sound.
It will be reborn as a creature,
called by some the midnight shrieker.
This thing will wander across your plains,
driving sane men to become insane.
Your women will weep without a care
and soon their eyes will be gone, along with their hair.
Your cats and dogs will growl and hiss,
as your children drown in their own piss.
Your trees will burn, along with your house,
while you play cat and mouse.
With this creature of the night,
you shall run with anger, panic, and fright.
There are only three other ways to prevent this plague,
besides putting them in a grave.
Burn their body and it will be done,
Just don't do it under the sun.
Or you shall be cursed along with your kin,
for this dastardly and evil sin.
Or let the corpse rot out of sight.
the second way to escape this fright.
As long as it's tied to something you will be fine.
Just don't let it go at any time.
The third way, despite its pleas,
is to bury the corpse out at sea.
The fish will eat its eyes and brain,
So it won't hurt anyone again.
Now my children, don't be afraid of what was said
as long as you bury your dead.
But if you don't you should be stirred,
because what's to come can not be cured.