When The Fire Is Dead in the Grate

When the fire is dead in the grate
Rake the ashes over
Frozen closed, the black house gate
The rain is coming on
The storm cried hark to the tomb
I was safe inside this room
But when I was asleep: footprints in the ash
One set were cloven hooves, the other set yours
A white charm was bound around my neck
As I stepped out I swear it turned coal black
So I followed those tracks down to the sea
There you lay asleep all covered in reeds
Rise, rise
In the waxing light
You must take my place
Run for home
With your holly stave
Gathering the fallen alder and yew
When the fire...
When the fire is dead in the grate
Rake the ashes over
Frozen closed, the black house gate
The rain is coming on