Winds howling, darkening times threaten
Incessant racket from a clattering skylight
Hatches battened down, a storm on its way
Skies of foreboding as darkness brings night.

Dark forests filled with screaming ghosts
The foolish stranger now wanders therein
And thus In grasp of diabolic hosts
The scythe will rise, he’ll pay for sin.

For yet again the raven will call
And a scythe draws blood somewhere
The Devil’s abroad collecting his dues
If you’re a sinner, you’d best beware.

Amidst the branches shrouded in grey
The ghostly ensemble drifts away
In deathly silence through the night
Vanishing only at break of day.

And in that thick dark canopy waits
An evil so frightening to all
Except the Devil and his ghostly friends
Who wait and listen for the raven’s call.

©Joe Wilson – The Devil gets his due…2016