The night is dark;

The wind is moaning.

The cold is stark;

Shadows are groaning.

There's blood on the breeze;

A pale being walks.

A rasping wheeze;

A dark thing stalks.

The moor is dark as Hela's realm;

The night as vast as life;

The monster wears a mighty helm,

Made from the bones of strife.

The moon is bright like Odin's eye,

The clouds as ravens' wings.

Fate has said that you must die;

                                                                     The famished monster sings.