(Talk between Bird and Girl)
Turn back. Turn, young lady dear
A murderer's house you enter here
I was wooed and won little bird
(I have watched them come bright girls
Out of the rising sun, with curls)
The stair is tall the cellar deep
The wind coughs in the halls
I never wish to sleep
From the ceiling the sky falls
It will press you and press you, dear.
It is my desire to fear
(What a child! she desires her fear)
The house is whirling night, the guests
Grains of dust from the northwest
I do not come for rest
There is no rest for the dead
Ready for the couch of my groom
In a long room beneath the dew
Where the walls embrace and cling.
I wear my wedding ring
He will cut off your finger
And the blood will linger
Little bird!
