Down by the dock when the moon turn red, You don’t call her name unless you ready for the dead… Madame Brigitte, she dance in smoke, Silver skulls on her velvet cloak, She whisper words from the Order’s tomb, Lightin’ candles in that purple room. Oh Brigitte, Brigitte, play that soul, Shake that bone, let the fire roll! Got the spirits hummin’ in the bayou air, If you call her name — better say a prayer. She got eyes like stormglass, cold and blue, Talk to the dead like the preachers do, Order of Souls got her book o’ flame, Write your fate there beside your name. Oh Brigitte, Brigitte, play that soul, Shake that bone, let the fire roll! Got the skulls a-glowin’ in the midnight air, If you see her smile — don’t you stare. She say: “Boy, bring me that Reaper’s gold, Bring me truth your Captain never told…” Then she laugh, oh Lord, and the lights go dim — You dance or you drown when you play with them. Oh Brigitte, Brigitte, queen of flame, Order call, she don’t play no game, On the deck, in the storm, when the souls draw near, She whisper soft: “You gonna die right here…”
