"And bless the chains, and sprinkle them; "And let fifty priests stand round,

"Who night and day the mass may say "Where I lie on the ground.

"And let fifty choristers be there,

"The funeral dirge to sing,

"Who day and night, by the tapers' light,

"Their aid to me may bring.

"Let the church bells all, both great and small, "Be toll'd by night and day,

"To drive from thence the fiends who come

"To bear my corpse away.

"And ever have the church door barr'd

"After the even song;

"And I beseech you, children dear,

"Let the bars and bolts be strong.

"And let this be three days and nights,

"Preserve me so long from the fiendish throng,

"And then I may rest in my grave."

The Old Woman of Berkeley laid her down,
And her eyes grew deadly dim,

Short came her breath, and the struggle of death
Did loosen every limb.

They bless'd the Old Woman's winding sheet
With rites and prayers as due;

With holy water they sprinkled her shroud,
And they sprinkled her coffin too.

And they chain'd her in a coffin of stone,
And with iron barr'd it down;

And in the church, with three strong chains,

They chain'd it to the ground.

And they bless'd the chains, and sprinkled them,

And fifty priests stood round,

By night and day the mass to say
Where she lay on the ground.

And fifty choristers were there
To sing the funeral song,
And a hallow'd taper blazed in the hand
Of all the sacred throng.

To see the priests and choristers
It was a goodly sight,

Each holding, as it were a staff,

A taper burning bright.

And the church bells all, both great and small,

Did toll so loud and long,

And they have barr'd the church door hard,

After the even song.

And the first night the tapers' light

Burnt steadily and clear;

But they without a hideous rout

Of angry fiends could hear;

A hideous roar at the church door,

Like a long thunder peal,

And the priests they pray'd, and the choristers sung, Louder in fearful zeal.

Loud toll'd the bell, the priests pray'd well,

The tapers they burnt bright;

The monk her son, and her daughter the nun,

They told their beads all night.

The cock he crew, away then flew
The fiends from the herald of day,
And undisturb'd the choristers sing,
And the fifty priests they pray.

The second night the taper's light
Burnt dismally and blue,

And every one saw his neighbour's face

Like a dead man's face to view.

And yells and cries without arise,

That the stoutest heart might shock;

And a deafening roaring, like a cataract pouring

Over a mountain rock.

The monk and nun they told their beads

As fast as they could tell;

And aye, as louder grew

the noise,

The faster went the bell.

Louder and louder the choristers sung,

As they trembled more and more;

And the fifty priests pray'd to heaven for aid; They never had pray'd so before.

The cock he crew, away then flew
The fiends from the herald of day;
And undisturb'd the choristers sing,
And the fifty priests they pray.

The third night came, and the tapers' flame

A hideous stench did make;

And they burnt as though they had been dipp'd

In the burning brimstone lake.

And the loud commotion, like the rushing of ocean, Grew momently more and more,

And strokes, as of a battering ram,

Did shake the strong church door.

The bellmen they, for very fear,
Could toll the bell no longer ;
And still, as louder grew the strokes,
Their fear it grew the stronger.

The monk and nun forgot their beads,
They fell on the ground dismay'd;
There was not a single saint in heaven
Whom they did not call to aid.