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The young girl sleeps in her chamber,
The quivering moon looks in;
Without, there's a twanging and singing
Like merry waltzers' din.

“I'll just peep forth from my lattice
To see who breaks my rest.”
A skeleton stands 'neath the window,
And fiddles and sings its best.

“Thou didst promise me once a measure,
Didst break thy word to me;
To-night there's a ball in the churchyard,
Come thither, I'll dance with thee!”

The spell hath seized the maiden,
It lures her out at the door;
She follows the spectre, that singing
And fiddling struts on before.

It fiddles, and dances, and prances,
And clatters its bones to the tune,
And waggles its skull grotesquely,
As it leaps in the rays of the moon.
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Author of original: 
Heinrich Heine
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