The ghoul, he does not love to talk
he'd rather keep a silent walk;
and as he reaches out for strays
he locks his eyes on the pr3y.
Away he leaps, around the bend—
where no one else, has ever been;
there, in the field he will dig
a grave to bury his midnight pig.
He digs and digs, like a fool,
heartlessly, unspoken to.
Then, with gravel on his pick,
he plucks out the heart from its ribs.
"Silly human…" he murmurs low
and tosses in his human foe;
when in the field [now] dark and grim,
he chants to the—eldritch winds!
He leaps and dances to and fro,
as if to profit from this soul.
O! how much wiser must one be,
to avoid these ghouls at midnight…