The Demon Of The Mire

In the murk of the firs and depth of the pondsa nameless horror did swellFrom whence it came and whither it shall gonot the wisest man could tellJust one shuttered light through the darkness shinesa lonesome hut at the fetid moor...It is filled with fright and with hopeless whinesfrom a boy, young and pureWind howls - evil prowlsat the chamber doorFog rolls - dead soulsin the dark galoreWood crack - pitch blackat the chamber doorSwamps brew - clouds spewin the dark galoreIt is the demon of the mire, he shall rest fornevermoreWhom he calls and haunts by ill desire, he shall rest fornevermoreThrough his realms he leads his ghostly choir, he shall rest fornevermoreIt is the demon of the mire, he shall rest fornevermoreThe boy it did consume, forever he will dwellin the malice of his doom...Wind howls - evil prowlsat the chamber doorFog rolls - dead soulsin the dark galoreWood crack - pitch blackat the chamber doorSwamps brew - clouds spewin the dark galoreIt is the demon of the mire, he shall rest fornevermoreWhom he calls and haunts by ill desire, he shall rest fornevermoreThrough his realms he leads his ghostly choir, he shall rest fornevermoreIt is the demon of the mire, he shall rest fornevermore