I woke from terror in the Night
A dream grotesque and gory

I ran in haste through wild starlight
To my Irish companion Rory

What, I cried, did he really say
That man who lives alone beyond the quarry?

He replied to me, She works this way
She loves to tell scary stories

Be strong, he urged, we must endure
Still more before She grants us glory

But fear not, my friend, history's horror ends
And we will all live in illo tempore