That I saw a moonlit stair,
Standing alone in the forest's black
And all manner of creatures there,
But for my eyesight, calling me back.
One sip of the drink from a canister
And I was there for good;
I slid, squealing, down the bannister,
As the creatures said I would.
Bathed in moonlight and revelry,
We yelled and danced into the night,
But, unwary in our... devilry,
We did not retreat with the light.
They found us there in the branches,
Languid, exhausted and spent.
We laughed aloud as they named our chances
And were hung the next week, over Lent.