Descent

What fear has he, this man in white He knows not of such hallowed rite As dancing shadows, dwindled light Covens empty, woeful sight

What fear has he, this man anew Lost in this darkened forest, true They see his trembling fingers blue Welcome him with broth and brew

What fear has he, this man aglow What dying light, time's weary foe Desperate, demands they keep him so Poultice, enchantment, witchcraft lo

What fear has he, this man gone cold Relying on this magic old They will not save him, foolish gold Means naught to them, his lies are bold

What fear has he, this man in black Dance along the devil's track Tarred and burnt and on the rack They do not miss his pious back