13 May 2012
Lock up your children,
Lock up your wives,
Line your doors with gold.
There's a-killin'
To be done tonight
By the Dullahan, so I'm told.
His headless steed
With hooves of fire
And a headless rider too,
Darting eyes, manic grin
Held under his arm
Tears your soul in two.
Draw your blinds,
Don't watch him pass
Lest a horrible fate befall ye;
Eyes lashed out
By a vertebrae whip
And buckets of blood cast upon thee.
A carriage he fashioned
From Death itself
To carry off the dead,
Made from worm-chewed pall
And candles of skull
And wheels made from femurs and lead.
Locks will not stop him
As he calls at your door
Though you bolt them because of the fright.
If he comes a-knockin'
Just quietly go with him
Into the death-blotted night.
Dullahan • Opuss № I