Thirteen Autumns and a Widow Cradle of Filth

Spawned wanton like blight on an auspicious night
Her eyes betrayed spells of the moon's eerie light
A disquieting gaze forever ghosting far seas
Bled white and dead, her true mother was fed
To the ravenous wolves that the elements led
From crag-jagged mountains that seemingly grew in unease

Through the maw of the woods, a black carriage was drawn
Flanked by barbed lightning that hissed of the storm
(Gilded in crests of Carpathian breed)
Bringing slaves to the sodomite for the new-born
On that eve when the Countess' own came deformed
(A tragedy crept to the name Bathory)

Elizabeth christened, no paler a rose
Grew so dark as this sylph
None more cold in repose
Yet her beauty spun webs
'Round hearts a glance would betroth

She feared the light
So when She fell like a sinner to vice
Under austere, puritanical rule
She sacrificed
Mandragora like virgins to rats in the wall
But after whipangels licked prisoners, thralled
Never were her dreams so maniacally cruel
(And possessed of such delights)
For ravens winged Her nightly flights
Of erotica
Half spurned from the pulpit
Torments to occur
Half learnt from the cabal of demons
In her
Her walk went to voodoo
To see her own shadow adored
At mass without flaw
Though inwards she abhored
Not her coven of suitors
But the stare of their Lord