The crescent moon is rising slow
   swiftly blades in ice do grow
   on the branches star-bleached snow
   waits while time is passing
  
   outside the door the dancer whirls
   chiming bells and shining curls
   flying footsteps in the snow
   rhyme the rhythm of ruin
  
   beside the wall the beggars call
   "Man have mercy on us all"
   the night-bound choir inside chants on --
   a hymn to brick and pistols
  
   you can stumble, you can fall
   or you can make the nations crawl
   but when death comes in to call
   he don't care about it.
  
   oh, Satan take thy cup away
   for i'll not drink your wine today
   i'll reach for the chalice of light
   that stands on Jesus' table.