A Christmas Carrol (Musical)

Dancing On Your Grave

Listen to the rhythm
Of the shovel on the gravel
And the murmurs of the spirits
That you fear,
Dancing in the shadows
Of the future.
Your future
Lies here!

(hooded, faceless monks emerge through the mist.)

Listen to the echoes
Of the voices in the shadows.
All the people who
You never tried to save!
Listen to the footsteps
Of the people who'll be
Dancing on your grave!

Monks, gravediggers
Listen to the rhythm
Of the hammer on the coffin
And the murmur of
The people drawing near.
Listen to the music of the future.
You future lies here!
Listen to the echoes of the voices of the future
As they curse you
For the little
That you gave!
Listen to the footsteps
Of the people
Who'll be dancing on your

"spirit, i know your purpose is to do me good."

(the ghost bows her head in acknowledgment.)

Lead me to the future.
I don't know what hells await me
But i know i have to go there
To return!
Tear me into shreds
And re-create me!
Tell me that it's not to late
To learn!
I can feel the shiver
Of a shadow passing over
And i have a premonition
It's for me!
Lead me to the future!
Show me everything
I'm terrified to see!

(mist swirls away to reveal two bankers and the beadle from the royal exchange.)

Banker one
Didn't he die?

Banker two
Didn't who die, sir?

Banker one
Terrible, mean old what's his name?

Banker two
Couldn't care less!

Neither could i, sir!
Funeral day, and no one came!

Banker one
What did he leave?

Banker two
Nobody knows and
Nobody chose to mourn his fate!

Banker one, banker two
Have a nice day.

Have a nice christmas!

Look at the time, i'm late!

"i know those gentlemen from the exchange! of whom do they speak?
What am i to learn from this?"

(a new scene is revealed: mrs. mops and
Two undertakers strip a corpse of its clothes and steal the bed curtains.)

Mrs. mops
Shame to let a shirt like this
Go in the ground!

Grab the sheets and curtains off his bed!

Mrs. mops
Wasn't worth your spit
While he was still around,

All three
But just look
How much he's worth
Now that he's dead!

"oh merciful heaven, what is this?"

(old joe appears out of the same mist, ringing his bell.)

Old joe
"rags and bones ? rags and bones ?"

Mrs. mops
"hey old joe! whatcha think?!"

Old joe
These are nice.
I'll give you three and eight, mum.
These are nice,
And i'll take these besides.
These are nice,
And these'll fetch a great sum!

All four
What a lovely profit he provides!