A wind swept across the tainted shore,

A nightly howl, a deathly roar,

Fogs hiding a graveyard tomb,

On which only flowers black to bloom.

**** 

Creaking trees fills the air with dread,

With the putrid waking of the dead,

The bites, the snarls, the groans of ghouls,

A temptation perhaps just for fools.

**** 

For what lay buried with the dead,

Shall be of use to those that tread,

With careful step and diligent care,

For those that intrude upon his lair.