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There is a darkness

A warm viscous feel

Like an evil flow

From an Angela Blake

Wolf-like child-packs

Howling moon claw

Shining rune eye

Bright beacons gaze

Lairs still in lie

In cold noon high

Blood of Dramaemus

Lord of ripened rye

One Bloody Skull

One Ogre of Death

Don't let things these

Lurk corner's dark

The Ogre of Death

Howling from the top of his world:

Come all ye faithful

For tonight we feast

He's an old ghost at play