Sit Down By the Fire

Sit down by the fire

I'll tell you a story to send you away to your bed

Of the things that are creeping when everyone's sleeping

You wish you were out here instead

It isn't the mice in the wall, it isn't the wind in the well

Every night they march out of that hole in the wall

On their way out of hell

They're the ones that you see when you wake up and scream

The cold things that follow you down the boreen

They live in the small ring of trees on the hill

Up at the top of the field

And they dance on the rain and dance on the wind

They tap on the window when no one is in

And if ever you see them

Pretend that you're dead or they'll bite off your head

They'll rip out your liver and dance on your neck

They dance on your head and they dance on your chest

They give you the cramp and the colic for jest

They're the ones that you see when you wake up and scream

The cold things that follow you down the boreen

They live in the small ring of trees on the hill

Up at the top of the field

They play on the wind, they sing on the rain

They dance on your eyes, they dance in your brain

Remember this place, it's damp and it's cold

The best place on Earth, but it's dark and it's old

Lie next to the wall and cover your head

Good night and God bless, now fuck off to bed