The summer’s light on watery waves
Came shining through the sky.
Aboard a flawless sailing ship,
The guests sat close and sighed,
And watched, beneath an arch of wood,
The groom stand waiting by.
A box was wheeled along the deck
As petals led the way;
It stopped before the somber priest
Who raised his arms to pray.
And shivering, the crowd grew cold
As he looked down to say:
“Arise, O Bride of M—ton;
Rejoin the ranks of life.
Thy widow calls us here today
So thou can be his wife.”
He clasped his hands; the groom stood stiff;
the box began to writhe.
Through splintered wood, the corpse arose;
She faced the screaming guests.
She moaned a deep, low cry of pain
And fell upon the chest.
“My dearest Jane!” the groom cried out
And rushed to her defense.
He pulled a scholar from the crowd
And held to her his head.
“Please feed, my love,” the groom implored,
While others watched in dread.
And forty-seven miles from shore
His zombie wife was fed.