[HerenIstarion]

The shadows where the Mewlips dwell
Are dark and wet as ink,
And slow and softly rings their bell,
As in the slime you sink.

You sink into the slime, who dare
To knock upon their door,
While down the grinning gargoyles stare
And noisome waters pour.

Beside the rotting river-strand
The drooping willows weep,
And gloomily the gorcrows stand
Croaking in their sleep.

Over the Merlock Mountains a long and weary way,
In a mouldy valley where the trees are grey,
By a dark pool's borders without wind or tide,
Moonless and sunless, the Mewlips hide.

The cellars where the Mewlips sit
Are deep and dank and cold
With single sickly candle lit;
And there they count their gold.

Their walls are wet, their ceilings drip;
Their feet upon the floor
Go softly with a squish-flap-flip,
As they sidle to the door.

They peep out slyly; through a crack
Their feeling fingers creep,
And when they've finished, in a sack
Your bones they lake to keep.

Beyond the Merlock Mountains, a long and lonely road.
Through the spider-shadows and the marsh of Tode,
And through the wood of hanging trees and the gallows-weed,
You go to find the Mewlips — and the Mewlips feed


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The shining shore where Moofeet go
Is pearly-pale like milk
There swift and loud pipes they blow
And soft is sand like silk

The flowers pop up from the turf
The windows shine with light
And waves are gentle with the surf
As shore they kiss by night

The lofty pine there stands on cliff
To face the salty breeze
And seagulls proud crowd the reef
Or master wind with ease

Down to Shallow Islet swift and winding path
Turns and writhes through, springs and leaps a-rath
On the shores of foamy surf, under starry sky
Harking to the wash on-shore, there the Moofeet lie

The halls by sea where Moofeet stall
Are full of golden shine
With lamps and torches on the walls
And merry guests to dine

Their windows wide and floors of sand
All round adorned with webs
All sing and dance on sea and land
When one shows out its neb

They rush and run, their gates are high
They stamp their hooves and bark
And when they’ll whistle, far and nigh
All foes will flee to lurk

Up from Shallow Islet swift and joyful way
Turns and writhes through and no one goes astray
To the shores of foamy surf, under starry dome
Merry will the feast be there, where’s the Moofoot’s home.