O soon the roads with blood will run -
An Night's sky bright with spells!
We hear a "Great Hunt" has begun;
O save us from this hell!

They come with staves and spells and swords,
And weapons fearsome wrought
By Newton's gnomes (so goes the word)
From distant bubbles brought

To homes and gardens, town and tent
And leaving none to hear
The screaming, dying cries, frequent
That follows mortal fear!

Our lives up to this point, all moot
Beneath this "Great Hunt"'s gaze -
All gristle 'neath the warriors' boot
The "points" for which they crave!

O shutter up the doors, and seal
The children safe inside
They come with magic, come with steel,
The Great Hunt's horrid tide!