The Discworld Death and Binky the horse, are here to stay. The knight and his steed. The darkest light even on the sunniest of days. He is here now and he has always been here. He will be here at the end; The time you reach the end of your allotted years.
The Death of Rats fears no cat, For he is already immortal; he always appears in black. Even if a rat has been killed by a cat And the cat can see The Death of Rats, He still walks in his cowl and carries his scythe, Because no matter how much the cat would like to attack, It cannot **** the Death of Rats, as it is no longer alive.
You cannot **** Death, nor can you **** the Death of Rats. You cannot escape the end, And you cannot escape the cat, If you are a rat; On that you can depend.
Susan is Deathβs Grand Daughter, with her hair black and white. Albert is Deathβs helper; the foolish type. Death stands alone in the night and at his side there flies a crow. With electric blue eyes, Death stares deep into your soul. He can reach inside you and take your life, Or he can let you go.
But when your time is up, From Death there is no escaping. He is your undertaker, have no fear of the Reaper; He cannot tell you where you are going.
Death is an anthropomorphic personification. Discworld is my favourite form of fiction. It would be my preferred place, To take a lifelong vacation.