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?

This is how it works, I heard him say
She loves to tell scary stories

Be strong, he urged, we must endure
Yet more till She grants us glory

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