Deep within the forest dark
Lies a beast with baleful bark
Feasting on a infant's soul
Cross its path and pay the toll
Aire! Gruagach! Aire! Gruagach!
Pass not through the village gate
Sun has set and day is late
If you walk alone at night
You meet black and grey and white
Crouched upon a rock or tree
It eats either you or me
It needs neither knife nor bowl
Drinks your blood out of your skull
Eyes to flame a fearful red
Claws to rend a body dead
Teeth to strip your white bones bare
They knit mittens from your hair
They will tan your hide for shoes
Boil your fat to grease their stews
Singing shanties to your groans
Playing pipes of hollowed bones
Run, hide, stay inside! Listen unto me!
Dark sport is the court of the Unseelie!
I have saved these words for last
Learn them well and hold them fast
Never venture from your bed
Else your very soul is dead!
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