Der Krampuslauf

The Horned One stamps along the berm  
Descending from the Inselberg
The bell-strung crook with jingling hooves
Toppled talus that the glaciers once pushed

By Alpine Yew through the passes strewn
A marauding clop echoed on one frigid night,
With black shale coal, painting Bernina's photo
Old Scratch winks with a mulled mug of spice

The Hephestian maker, 

The old mountain-shaker,
The basket-weaved slaver ov Velais.

Turning bone into brine across the valley side
When snatching screams from Rhone to Rhine

Old farm fields remain 

Where the youth once went dancing
Under the eve of a Tawny sky, 
Now their shrieks inflamed by the ruten cane 
Teach a lofty lesson on Krampusnacht.