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Marie slipped outside
and made for the shoal, she
held in her hand
a golden pistole, it was
all nearly silent
and the moon sang a song
of the mourning of night
and the coming of dawn

Though her path was dark
her feet turned no stone, for she'd
learned the way
when she was alone, it was
all nearly silent
and she hastened her step
for the morning would bring
what the night had long kept

A bend and she came
to the mound in the spring, she
lifted her head
to quietly sing, it was
all nearly silent
her voice ever low
seranading the night
for the life of her beau

Her face flushed with red,
her hair in her teeth, she
waited for him
alone by the reeds, it was
all nearly silent
when the sun first did rise
and her mourning lament
brought the cruelest surprise

He came with the shadows,
his heart in his hands, he
slid with the breeze
and the slope of the land, it was
all nearly silent
the blood dripping slow
from the hole in his chest
to the dirt down below

But she saw not a move,
and heard not a sound, her
eyes never saw
the hole in the mound, it was
all nearly silent
when he reached for her dress
and her hands --- they fell
like a stone from her chest

She spun on her toes
and made as to scream, but he'd
already grabbed
her dress at the seams, it was
all nearly silent
as he took her down
and forever they lay
in his home underground

And obscured in the mist
a man patiently stood, his
hands at his side,
his face cloaked by hood, it was
all nearly silent
when he snatched the pistole
and into the mist,
he took Marie's soul