I know it clear this one Year it yells among the holy Bells
Come-to Vitrunian Cage, to this grim and haunting Age
Haunts with Grim (the Mortal Ones)
I am Son of This (threatening Native)
So misanthrophic to regular unknown Man

Once a Autumn Night my Hunger demands
And I rose from my cold Bed (of rock)
As the dark worrying Mists hovers above
The remote Forest Ridges...

I perceived some feeble Voices
Strange and feared they sounds to me
I scented Humans far away of their Houses
Sudden my Hunger demands to gaze upon them

And the Darkwoods gave me a feeling like:..
It's time to do the Harvest

I chose my lovely Human Mask
Made of beauty yesteryear Virginskin
I insured I am Keeper of the Woods
And guide your Bunch to a Path out of here
Back to where your Flock rules