Chilling
A girl lies
And counts the sheep,
Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the Lord
To take my soul,
To lock it in a rabbit's hole.
She awakes
Late at night,
Her soul is his, she dies of fright.
The girl cries,
Chilling blood,
Falls to the floor, kur-plop, kur-plud.
My blood runs silver
Like the moon
Yes this poem will end soon.
The girl lies
And counts the sheep,
Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the Lord
To take my soul,
So the devil cannot eat it whole.
