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At dusk, the gates of the netherworld can be opened... The Ankou takes shape... Tall and gaunt casting shadow,

let the wizened sking bring the stench of death... Ankou, swathed in a ragged shroud... Ankou nigh stalker...

Smell the air for the living... Your cart creeks slowly by... Eyes lit with a phantom flame, Ankou the death bringer...

Sharpen my scythe on human bones... Plague and dysentery my companions beside me...

A appear by the ghostly death fire, won't you come with me?