A coin placed in my mouth to pay the fare.
The ferryman's eyes are a fearsome stare.
Rich or poor the coin would be the same.
Wealth has no meaning in this new domain.

Across the Styx he tackles twists and flow.
Between the worlds Charon's boat will go.
The unburied, or those without fare to pay.
Would walk lonely lands forever and a day.

Sullen souls into the waters would be cast.
Into the muddy rivers of hate, a Hell to last.
Sinners would be beaten with force of oar.
And the wrathful would fight upon the shore.

Through more rivers deep or marshes great.
The devilish ferryman rowed alone till late.
Then in darkness I reached a world unknown.
Charon had now sailed me to my new home.