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.
| 
