That creepy-crawly insect of the blackdamp.
Who lurks behind where the head is laid to rest.
Who stings the neck, petrifying it with sharp pain.
Who victimizes the mind with its poisonous front claws.
Shall, at the appointed time, be no more.
It shall pour incessantly as that day nears.
Holes, burrows, and crevices will be filled up.
Out of their lairs, creatures of the damp will come.
Ushering in the centipede's demise, that season will be.
