Hush my dear, the black moon rises
casting shadows, deep dark and dire.
Nowhere will be safe this night,
underneath the black moons light.

Silence child, don’t speak a word
lest the sounds you make are overheard.
If they are then hide your face
so you won’t be seen by the goblin race.

Yes my love, tonight they walk
and from not death the goblins baulk.
Each year they come to wreathe the woe
underneath the black moons glow.

Quiet now, don’t make a sound,
else by goblins you’ll be found.
If that were to happen dear,
the goblins, they’ll have cause to cheer.

For human flesh is their desire
to flay and roast over open fire.
They’ll peel your skin to reveal the bones
ignoring now your screams and groans.

They march in droves out of woodland dell,
from exactly where I cannot tell.
Don’t make a sound, don’t even sigh
lest you hear their battle cry.

Please now little one, be still,
for the goblins come to hunt and kill.
The slightest noise will bring them round
and goblin chant will then resound.

Throughout the night they stalk their prey
underneath the black moons ray.
But you can be sure by morn,
the goblin army will be gawn.


Background photo nicked off Google. Don’t know who the original artist was, too lazy to go look and find out.

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