On Ancestors’ Night, when mists descend, A lad’s gaze fell upon the glen. A gleaming spark, its light did bend, Where bog’s dark spirit lured again. Ignoring fear, the lad did stray, While candles in the cabin died. A call to wander led his way, Away from hearth, from home denied. [Chorus] IN THE DANCE OF DEATH, THEY'RE LOST, WILL-O’-WISPS ENCHANT, ENTICE, AND GUIDE. WHO FOLLOWS THEM WILL PAY THE COST, IN SILENT BEAUTY WHERE SOULS RESIDE. Upon a clearing strewn with stones, A maiden bare, her eyes aglow. Her cheeks as white as frost on thrones, Her smile a snare, her voice a flow. "Come, dear lad, join this dance of mine." A speechless gasp; his words fell faint. "Light the lamp and greet dawn’s sign." She swayed and spun, a ghostly saint. [Chorus] IN THE DANCE OF DEATH, THEY'RE LOST, WILL-O’-WISPS ENCHANT, ENTICE, AND GUIDE. WHO FOLLOWS THEM WILL PAY THE COST, IN SILENT BEAUTY WHERE SOULS RESIDE. Her glow spun wild in spectral rays, But when he reached, her form was gone. No swirling locks, no mystic blaze— The lad stood still, the forest drawn. He stumbled home, pale and drained, The silence thick, the night unending. A single hair from her remained, His only token, tale suspending. [Chorus] IN THE DANCE OF DEATH, THEY'RE LOST, WILL-O’-WISPS ENCHANT, ENTICE, AND GUIDE. WHO FOLLOWS THEM WILL PAY THE COST, IN SILENT BEAUTY WHERE SOULS RESIDE.
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