Rusalka
Listen to the river cane shifting in the wind
The black water twinkles under the moon's leering grin
Listen to the whisper of the sycamores rustling low
While something splish-splashes in the water's icy flow
Come a little closer, and look into the stream
Look upon this swimming girl with skin as white as creme
Her eyes beckon you forward and the eyes never lie
She sings a song that sounds as sweet as grannie's apple pie
Come on in and take a swim, the water is more than pleasant
The perfect thing to ease the pain of a wayward, wandering peasant
Sink into these loving arms of this pale, watery girl
To let her drag you to the depths and free you from this world
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