In awful shame I sallied forth,

In misery I pined;

Forever would those wedding vows

Evade my reeling mind!

Yet as I stood midst twisted trees

And wallowed in despair,

I drew forth ring and dainty sprig

Of little blossoms fair.

My memory, poor as it was,

Now seemed to serve me well.

The image of my own true love

Did all my fears dispel;

The vows that had caused me such grief

I uttered without pause,

Thrusting my ring upon a twig—

Oh, what a fool I was!

A chill wind whistled past me then,

The earth began to shake,

And from the ground sprang the result

Of my careless mistake.

With ring upon her finger bone

And eyes bright with desire,

She claimed me hers and then I knew

My situation dire.

I fled from her to no avail,

I did not think to hide.

She cornered me upon the bridge—

And was so close beside!—

When, in a moment of pure fear,

It seems that I did swoon;

If I had only remained thus

And not woken so soon!

I found it hard to comprehend

That I had wed a corpse.

And living with the lively dead—

Why, nothing could be worse!

Oft did I try to slip away,

To find her whom I'd lost.

I was determined to flit home

No matter what the cost.

Yet when I learned my former bride

Had found another love,

I lost all longing to return

To my homeland above.

I knew that I had given up

To my new bride my life.

No longer would I then resist,

And at least end her strife.

Yes, I had promised her my soul,

And would not be untrue,

For though I could not love her

'Twas the honest thing to do.

And so we did embark upon

A journey to the place

Where I did hope I'd ne'er again

Observe my false love's face.

For in my heart I cherished her

And in my mind I felt

That despite all she'd done to me,

Still in my heart she dwelt.

And as we stood within the church

And I prepared to die,

I did perceive her presence;

Yes, I knew she was nearby.

I grasped the goblet of poison

And nearly took a sip,

When my corpse bride did stay my hand,

A sob upon her lips.

For it had become clear to her—

Our marriage could not be—

Not if I still loved someone else,

Albeit secretly.

Oh, wouldn't I have pitied her

And thought myself a knave,

If she hadn't then sprouted wings

And flown far from her grave—

She flew up to the very moon,

A thousand butterflies!

Words can't express all that I owe

The virtuous corpse bride.