IN the white moonlight, where the willow waves, He halfway gallops among the graves -- A tiny ghost in the gloom and gleam, Content to dwell where the dead men dream, But wary still! For they plot him ill; For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm (May God defend us!) to shield from harm. Over the shimmering slabs he goes -- Every grave in the dark he knows; But his nest is hidden from human eye Where headstones broken on old graves lie. Wary still! For they plot him ill; For the graveyard rabbit, though sceptics scoff, Charmeth the witch and the wizard off! The black man creeps, when the night is dim, Fearful, still, on the track of him; Or fleetly follows the way he runs, For he heals the hurts of the conjured ones. Wary still! For they plot him ill; The soul 's bewitched that would find release, -- To the graveyard rabbit go for peace! He holds their secret -- he brings a boon Where winds moan wild in the dark o' the moon; And gold shall glitter and love smile sweet To whoever shall sever his furry feet! Wary still! For they plot him ill; For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm (May God defend us!) to shield from harm. |