As the ancients always speak
of things that crawl and things that creep,
so dreams the child that lies abed,
of demons dark and filled with dread.

Even souls that hold no fear
do quicken pace as night draws near,
and scurry home to bolt the door,
to banish demons evermore.

So mock ye not the secret rhymes,
or stories told of long past times;
nor spurn or hesitate to face
the ancients in their state of grace.

Rather, reach out in your dreams,
accept the worlds not all it seems;
that creatures lying dormant long
may rise and sing their siren song.

But always there's a journeys end
to waken us for daily mend;
as in the dawn of each new day
the crawly creatures fade away.

And mornings when we rise and see
the sunlight reaching through the trees;
gives all of us the strength to fight,
those demons of the dark dread night.