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In the hour of the witch's night
With fires burning bright
A slender shadow passes near
To carry off your children fair

Hands like branches
Creaking with age
Entrance young minds
As the lyre plays

Warped and withered frightful hag
Unmoved by the fists of man
Drifts to the fallen trees
Where the phantom music emanates

All about the cries rang out and torches blazed; desperate search for the missing
Never knowing all the while sleepers at the edge of the forest listened
Hastening the total subrogation of the untouched bloodline
Bitter mystifying dread horripilation; familiar faces under bottle flies

No one knows from whence she came or how she came to be
Indeed a daemon aberration not of this plane
Occult magnum power execrable; none may comminate
Ordained in the distant gloom of eyes glowing and pained

Come to the weald
Bring your faith and fire
Fall's somber dance
Escape the pyre

Draw the beast from darkness bound
Before the mucid circle
Clouded copse of rancid death
Graves!

Barren earth among the dense and deadly thickets
The trees dressed in sigils esoteric and rufescent

Prey on the lost of the mad mass witch hunt
Counting the strings of The Black Lyre's spell
Fly from the gyre of the once dead hex-born
Canticles choke the air from Hell

The fateful few surviving raced the horses to the church's guarding, mangled and despondent from the loss
Never truly seeing but disposed to now believing panicked stories of the things among the moss

On dirty knees they bow
Praying to their god
Demented and lamenting
The girl they gave the rod

They're here now...

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