Down in the woods of Hattersley Dell,

There’s a Devil at the bottom of a wishing well.

If you desire for him to wake,

How many coins will it take?

One for the child, taken from the womb,

Laid in sodden cradle; a well for his tomb.

Two for the ferryman, a toll never paid.

A soul left wandering – lost and afraid.

Three for the townsfolk, through panic stoked,

Stole away the child, and curse invoked.

Four for the watchman, who cast it down the well.

The disfigured demon child sent back to Hell.

And five for the mother, driven mad with grief.

Her spirit left searching, beyond death’s relief.

Toss your coins at the midnight bell’s chime,

Then dash away when he starts to climb.

Run and hide with all your might,

And pray you live to see morning’s light.