11 Moustachioed Daughters

Eleven moustachioed daughters, running in a field of fat
The moon is high, the mandrake screams
Please come to our Sabbat
The changeling children shiver, round the fire their mothers dance
With strangely painted faces
That smile but never laugh
The crow-pecked gibbet's victim swings broken in his cage
His hands cut down to make a crown
To wear as our homage
Round & round the magic ring soft figures fastly rush
And wolf-like things & toads with wings whisper wetly
"Come with us"

The fresh-plucked eye of a favourite cat
Pulped and mixed with a white hens fat
A lapwings' wing and lions' gall
And Belladonna to make your eyes
Like a beast's!

To anoint the body and make it shine
To drink & make thyself divine
To choose another's form and make it thine

And now they gibber blasphemy and fill the fetid air
With ancient lies & leprous cries
This night he will be there
A madness has them, mouths gape wide
As one they sway and moan
And every brutish face is turned
To see our Goat-King's Throne

(Worship for Satan!)

(I don't remember too good, but I think John Wayne was in it)
(I don't remember too good, but I think John Wayne was in it)
(I don't remember too good, but I think John Wayne was in it)