Testo di Alternation

Shovels in hands, he has to be moved His torment of land must be ended Making their way into his grave Will his betray be amended? Deep in the ground, down in the dark His body is found grim as dreaded The repellent smell of moulder and rot The odour of Hell from the wounded Revolting and foul, decomposition Still on the prowl, the departed Fright in their eyes, task is commenced His gruesome days will be ended