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I went to the ferryman and I asked
has the fare been paid
has the die been cast
He looked at me from under his hood
with hollow eyes that would if they could

swallow me up in the vacant abyss
he extended his bony hand and
uttered a hiss

Little Missy me, he hissed my name
your fare was paid, you played the game
your hollow empty shell is bare

your lovely golden flaxen hair is
turned to silver age is the game
your wages you gambled and lost all the same

Your ride on the ferry a rough one to be
not sheltered from winds or rains will you be

left wanting your lost lover is the pay
riding the ferry from dusk to dawn
never to rest you head from the musk,
or mist, Little Missy rides alone all the same.

The Charon has been waiting round the bend
watching for him to come again
to call out your name from the banks of the Styx
but he knows in his heart you are the hex.

He knows you wept by the glen in dusk
and sent your sweet kisses into the mist
he held his hand high to fend off their aim
he never loved you... it was his fair game.