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They journeyed far to Brocken Mountain pinnacle. |
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A gathering of dread, an awesome spectacle. |
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Each in his hand, a candle of black. |
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Their faces grave, a deathlike mask. |
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The prince assumed the person of the goat, |
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Reigning upon his throne distant and far remote. |
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The cauldrons boiled as the fires burned. |
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The deep'ning shadows, two figures turned. |
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Bubbling pots of ungents and potions, |
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Flames revealing the obscene motions. |
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Old hags murmur in evil ranting! |
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Voices grow louder and join in the chanting. |
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Infants' flesh they did offer |
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For the prince to devour. |
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Covens join, all combine, |
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Powers strong, thoughts align. |
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If witchcraft all the fools condemn, |
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It turns around and crushes them. |
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When good has been twisted, |
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When good has been killed, |
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Then love is resisted and blood will be spilled. |
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Accursed ye'll be! |
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From toes to eyes! |
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Accursed ye'll be! |
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Until ye dies! |