Foundry of the Night

With a surreptitious quiver on a dark and gloomy night
There lies a place of shadows hidden far away from sight
The hissing of the steamy pipes, the rattle of the iron
Send shivers down your waken spine and terrors through your mind

This old, decrepit foundry working swiftly late at night
The cogs are spinning, winding wheels and turn forever tight
Down the depths, this murky canyon, far away from light
Bereft of life, it lurks, forging horrors out of spite

Where no one goes and no one cares to see it after dark
There’s nothing to protect you there – no angels dare to lark
Past the fiery pits of steel, beyond the sullen shadows
A pair of evil, crimson eyes are watching through the windows

Sitting, watching, waiting for the scamper of a mouse
Then pouncing on whatever stirs that intrudes into its house

The gongs of metal drums fill the rusty, stale air
To invite the iron crowd that lives and works here in despair
At once the factory comes alive with clinking, clashing sounds
To reveal the drones of brass inside this dank, old, tarnished town

A roar of screeching metal bellows through the twisted halls
And the people made of steel all whimper, waiting for a pause
“Play is over, time to work”, they amble back in fright
For no-one dares to challenge him – this landlord of the night

They drift into the shadows of the forge from whence they came
Forgotten by the sleeping world and never seen again
So back inside your cosy bed and save yourself the fright
And forget about the terrors of the foundry of the night

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