By Angela L. Garratt
The Ferryman, which is now the lyrics of a song produced, com-positioned and sang by Niven Smith.
Cold is the night that the ferryman brings
Cold is the water where the lost souls sing.
Sailing under starless skies,
The ferryman travels with fire in his eyes.
Tirelessly he pushes with his oar,
To sail across those dead shores.
Ignoring all the souls that are deprived,
For the ferryman, they’ve been denied.
Words of pain and in angry tone,
Is what these souls would sing and moan.
They cannot die or move on,
All these souls will sing alone.
With each cruel word souls gnashed their teeth,
Water swamps their sins and they’re dragged beneath.
But the ferryman he carries on,
Taking these souls from Acheron.
Here the ferryman pays the toll,
Of never passing a good soul.
A dismal place the ferryman goes,
Of heat and frost and eternal woes.
©Angela L. Garratt