A nun serves stew to a novice,

A choirboy sobs in the dark.

While high in the chancery office

His Reverence studies the glass,

Wondering which of his vestments

Would look best at Palm Sunday Mass.

The saints in their weather-stained niches

Weep as the Vespers are read,

And the beggars sleep on the church steps,

And the orphans retire unfed.

On Easter the Lord is arisen

While the Archbishop breakfasts in bed,

And the humble shall find resurrection,

And the dead shall lie down with the dead.

NOSFERATU’S SERENADE

I am the image that darkens your glass,

The shadow that falls wherever you pass.

I am the dream you cannot forget,

The face you remember without having met.

I am the truth that must not be spoken,

The midnight vow that cannot be broken.

I am the bell that tolls out the hours.

I am the fire that warms and devours.

I am the hunger that you have denied,

The ache of desire piercing your side.

I am the sin you have never confessed,

The forbidden hand caressing your breast.

You’ve heard me inside you speak in your dreams,

Sigh in the ocean, whisper in streams.

I am the future you crave and you fear.

You know what I bring. Now I am here.

(From Nosferatu)

MAD SONG

I sailed a ship

In the storm-wracked sea,

And all were drowned

Except for me.

I swam all night

Through death-cold waves

Till my shipmates called

From their sunken graves,

A lucky life for you, lad, a lucky life for you!

I fought through wars

In a barren land

Till none were left

Of my rugged band.

On a field of dead

Only I stood free.

Then a blind crow laughed

From a blasted tree,

A lucky life for you, lad, a lucky life for you!

I scaled a mountain

Of cold sharp stone.

The others fell,

And I climbed alone.

When I reached the top,

The winds were wild,

But a skull at my feet

Looked up and smiled,

A lucky life for you, lad, a lucky life for you!

(From Nosferatu)

ALLEY CAT LOVE SONG

Come into the garden, Fred,

For the neighborhood tabby is gone.

Come into the garden, Fred.

I have nothing but my flea collar on,

And the scent of catnip has gone to my head.

I’ll wait by the screen door till dawn.

The fireflies court in the sweetgum tree.

The nightjar calls from the pine,

And she seems to say in her rhapsody,

“Oh, mustard-brown Fred, be mine!”

The full moon lights my whiskers afire,

And the fur goes erect on my spine.

I hear the frogs in the muddy lake

Croaking from shore to shore.

They’ve one swift season to soothe their ache.

In autumn they sing no more.

So ignore me now, and you’ll hear my meow

As I scratch all night at the door.

MARKETING DEPARTMENT TRIO

Classical music’s

Gotta go.

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