Necromancer

The dead fear nothing,
So they say.
Underground,
In coffins they lay.

Wearing their Sunday bests,
Tired bodies long lain to rest.
Long and quiet is their sleep,
While the worms dig in deep.

Wandering among
Broken gravestones,
Clothed in the darkest
Of black robes.

Is the man the dead do fear,
You'd fear him too,
And his searing sinister leer.

Yellow eyes,
Of a demon's brood.
Look at you,
As if you're food.

He mutters his incantation,
And the dead must rise,
Face their damnation.
From the necromancer,
There is no salvation.

There is no heaven,
Only hell,
Listen to the sorrowful knell,
The dead rock back and forth like bells.

Held up only by his black magic,
A life so sweet is now only tragic.

He has no patients for the living,
He is not known for forgiving.
Don't cross his path,
Mind your tread.

Be as silent as the dead.

So as you cry above the ground,
If you should hear a scratching sound,
Get out child,
Get out now.

Or by the necromancer you'll be found.