To the tune of We Three Kings
We three vamps of Holy Banew
Bearing doom we traverse unto,
Fields of coffins, dawn time lock-ins
Following yonder moon.
Oh, ohhhhhhh,
Moon of evil, moon of night
Moon that gives vampires sight,
Westward leading, necks are bleeding
Guide us to thy perfect bite.
Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume
Breathes a life of gathering gloom,
Sorr’w-ing, sighing, bleeding, dying
Sealed in the stone-cold tomb.
Oh ohhhhhhhh…
Breath of evil, breath of night
Breath that freezes flesh before bite,
Very near, fangs appear
The undead become the most common ones.
by Joan Crawford