As I slept in my room like the dead in its tomb
Like a child unborn in the walls of the womb,
I dreamt of blue upward skies and buildings of gold,
And the woman by my side of which to have and to hold,
But I awoke to the sound that all sane men fear,
The sound of darkness and of silence so clear,
And as I looked through the dark at my old oak chair
There sat a cat with jet black hair,
She spake “follow me” and proceeded to the door,
I did not dare obey but was pulled by the floor.
And the door, of course, did open, and but of course it should,
As all inanimate objects smiled, metal, cloth and wood.

Our harmonising steps resonated down the halls,
The eyes of kin ancestral penetrated from the walls,
An’ thus they spoke their hatred in harsh and heavy brogue,
“That cat ought eat ye amadán, you foul and loathsome rogue!”

And though my skin was crawling, and sensed my mind was falling ever further in this calling,
The calling of my name,
Yet ceased was the plethora of my own private Agora and indeed it made me surer on whom this call to blame.
And on this cold yet windless night I could not help but feel contrite as my eyes were greeted by the sight that ran a knife straight through my soul,
As outside upon a mare was a man that brewed despair and I noticed that his hair was as white as night is cold.
He spoke “I see you staring at this snake that I am bearing but do not see you caring for the one inside your breast.”
“Please let me catch my bearings, sir you gave me quite a scaring, and this air that we’re now sharing is tightening my chest.”
“You think that your transparent lies can cloud with shadow both my eyes and leave my mind quite hypnotised to what last year transpired?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, this whole charade is just obscene, I think you’ll find my conscience clean, now please I’m very tired!”
“So it’s not been you that’s dealing in more than lies and stealing whose heart should now be reeling with murder unforgot?”
“You know nought of my position, behind me apparition.” With that made my decision to have the knave shot,

And as I ran into the house, the pursuer of a mouse I did feel underfoot as I fell,
And the horseman shouted through “And now my cat, that makes two, for a crime like this you will surely burn in hell!”
 And I cried out “No my queen!” the words I called my Angeline and woke up from this scene in quite a state.
So I brewed myself some tea, but outside the window through at me, stared wide eyed the horseman and my fate.
How red the blood did gleam as a wine river or a stream and no one ever heard me scream my last dear breath.
And no-one knew my Angeline who died by my hands so cold had been in love with a horseman, she was now his queen in Death.