In memorium : Christopher Lee: "Vam-pyre"

Send the flames skywards
For Lord Drac is dead,
Again. Until some careless traveller,
Can once again be found to
Spill the red,
And thickening stream,
That is the lifeblood's curse,
Upon his ashy dessicated pyre.

For the Undead, can never truely die,
So long as anywhere the blood is red,
One day it will be spilled where it must fall,
This is the Mobilum Perpetual,
This the return,
That nature never gives,
Thus we comit his light-burned,
Oak-pierced corpse, to become silver.

We are the villagers who do not come,
Unto the Castle when the Lord Drac stirs,
We know our place, we live and begat heirs,
Who live until, once more the time will come,
To send the flames skyward
For Drac is dead.
And if some times, a single voice is raised,
To say, "We should just tear the castle down.

Lord Drac is gone! So scour the land with salt.
Sow garlic seed, and set in every mound, a crucifix."
We shout the blaggard down,
For we know that some careless traveller,
Will once again spill out the thickening stream
That is the lifeblood's curse, and he will rise,
Up, certainly as Spring,
Millenia hence, He will become a God,

As Osiris, or Balder, or the Christ.
For nothing comes back from the Dead,
That is not Worshipful, to those who die.
The corn, is but an emblem of the blood,
Millenia hence, they will wear tiny fangs,
On their lapels, and argue late at night,
If ever truely Dracula Arose.
But even then, if travellers are careless, He may rise!