The Midnight Hour

Upon my horse in the midnight hour, I smell the odor of sweet young flowers The moon shines through the frozen trees, the wolf howls softly in the breeze Familiar sounds surround my ears, the baby owl, the raven’s caw My stallion slows, a stranger nears, could it be someone I once saw? We stopped to greet and shook cold hands, I lit a fire, we exchanged tales He spoke as if from foreign lands, I notice long and sharpened nails I asked him why he wore a cape, on such a cold and windy night He sat in silence his mouth agape, two pointed teeth gave me a fright “I must be going” I spoke and stood, and mounted fast my nervous mare And as he rose it does one good, to ride as fast as one would dare He quickly followed, my heart did race, in fear I fled this frightful fiend Soon he caught me and held my face, below the surface of a stream With all my strength and power within, I drew my dagger from my waist And plunged it sure below his chin, and once again I rode in haste But yet again the fiend did ride, as I rode into a dim lit cave I hid in darkness as he cried, “I soon will put you in your grave” I crawled and felt a wooden stake, from some old wheel that fell apart And as he struck as would a snake, I plunged it deep into his heart And now the fiend lies without motion, and soon will be out of my sight My trusted mare with its devotion, has brought us home again tonight