Beneath the moon’s pale, ghostly glance,
Where shadows waltz in a trance,
The devil’s whispers softly creep,
Through the night, in secrets deep.

In the forest, dark and wide,
Among the trees, where spirits bide,
He weaves his tale of silent dread,
Filling hearts with whispered dread.

With eyes of fire and a cunning grin,
He tempts the pure, invites them in,
Promises of power, wealth untold,
In exchange for a soul to hold.

Yet those who dance with his deceit,
Find their dreams at his feet,
For in the end, the cost is steep,
In the shadow of the devil’s keep.