Demons

Flitting cross’t the moon on a stormy night
A soul a-feared in mortal plight
Did witness, or thought he did, black figures flying
In the lightening flash and crashing sound
Heard the hideous screams like the damned a-dying
Trembling remembering half forgot tales of yore
And other ancient lore
Fell he quaking to the ground

Heard a cackling of evil mirth
But held in thrall cannot help rising to draw near,
Mesmerized with fear
And see that which he thought was seen
With trembling knee
Goes forth he

There in the darkness a flicker of light
Fire's flames green lights the scene
As witches flew, drinking devils’ brew
Screeching higher and higher on the tortured wind
Eyes glowing red with wickedness of sin
Descended they unto the goat-head figure
Cloven hoofed and horned of brow
He draws even nearer fascinated now

Against his will drawn down the hill
Into their vale his blood they’ll spill
Drawn down to his own destruction
Drums beaten by unseen demons
The rhythm destroys his reason
And froze his soul

Seizing him, tearing him sharing him
They devour his flesh
Yet still he lives suffering every bite
Sees his beating heart ripped from his breast
Wakes up screaming, filled with dread
That’s the last time I read “Tam ‘O Shanter” in bed!

Tee hee readers! ;-)