~                   The moon is high
                       As children cry
              Away within their slumber
                    On mares of night
                  That bares the blight
                     Of goblins gleam
                   And wicked things
                  That creep through
                    Your cellar door
                    A creak on stairs
                  The wind out there
         Sounds like a thousand hands
                    Of darker things
             The ones you don't let in
      Are watching through the window
     With crimson grin and glowing skin
      They'll scratch upon your window
                 But Their out there
                    As your in here
                  So close your eyes
                    And bundle tight
                     For you my son
                     I say goodnight