Don't let the wolf into your bed. He'll take your soul then eat your head. Inside the honey hollow space, licking his fingertips of cake. He brings the whirling deep in your heart, then sings as twirling demons of dark. To take you down beneath the ridge, to where is found his silent bridge. Still is the water green and thick, he'll drag you under with his stick. See flaxen gold floats there through the mist; he killed someone's daughter with his wick, an arm with grey skin bobs slowly in the pit. No don't let the wolf creep in your door, he'll take you in sleep to his chamber of horror. Are you dreaming? No use pleading. Are you dreaming? He'll soon be feeding.