She is dead;
  the lady in white wears black.
    Such tragedy-
      the widow, a childless mother dead to the world.
    An innocent, fallen to the hands of man;
  her soul is restless,
her pain cries out.
She is sad, weeping tears of blood:
  She is the ghost in the mirror looking back;
    the innocent of an evil spirit.
      You hear her cries on a cold still night;
    the howling, the chill, the very thing that cast a fright.
  She is alone, forever alone;
she is the lady in white wearing black.