They think I can’t sense them, how wrong can they be?

This tattered straw bogle’s my physical home.

My body is gone but my spirit is free,

when darkness descends through their village I roam.

*

This tattered straw bogle’s my physical home.

It shelters my essence from their hostile will.

When darkness descends through their village I roam,

taking my chances their offspring to kill.

*

It shelters my essence from their hostile will,

which never relents, though they burned me alive.

Taking my chances their offspring to kill,

makes it worthwhile that my soul does survive.

*

Which never relents, though they burned me alive,

blaming my witchcraft for spoiling their crops.

Makes it worthwhile that my soul does survive,

ensuring my quest for revenge never stops.

*

Blaming my witchcraft for spoiling their crops,

when all that I did was to rut with their wives.

Ensuring my quest for revenge never stops,

means that their children must fear for their lives.

*

When all that I did was to rut with their wives,

giving such pleasure that they’d never known.

Means that their children must fear for their lives,

some of them produce of seeds I have sown.

*

Giving such pleasure that they’d never known,

though one died in childbirth, they said she was cursed.

Some of them produce of seeds I have sown,

but they’ll all rot in Hell when I’ve done my worst.