In the biting cold of night,
My raging flattened ears,
The jingles of a dreary night,
Ripples of awe, malignant bodings,
The night, my friend my tormentor.
Scary night, the furtive wind pawing
Down the deep dead of night. My frame, the still pole in inly ecstacy,
Sky rumbles, earth echoes, the jingles of dread.
Lamenting souls, their sufferings dumped.
The sound of night, the sense of fright.
Roars of ancient worlds, moon's illume dampened in blanket clouds.
But what the night of fright to us did say, man could not his code unbreak.
Scary jingles! Might they some doom portend?
Ominous lives ours do reveal. But Heed, O soul, heed. The jingles the Night does sound, the readier man must be.
Dawn may not all that joyous be
Or haply, moon's illume, the clouds break free.
Jingles their sound's a howler, but man fears for fear's own sake.
Scary jingles? Brace up and move.