A structure stands engulfed in shadow,
Its inhabitants yet to be seen.
Gusts of frigid wind buffet and blow
Through a castle without a queen.
Black skeletons moan
As they beat at the stone
Of the Castle of the Count.

Darkness is just the beginning
Of this grim affair.
From a turret, the Count stands grinning
At his visitors’ nightmare.
Each man’s blood turns to ice,
But that won’t suffice
The wishes of the Count.

In horror all guests run
To escape the Count’s grasp,
His pursuit just begun.
As they give their last gasp,
They wake in the unknown,
Where the winds have not blown:
The Chamber of the Count.

These legends and traditions
The locals know for sure,
From the fablers’ repetitions
And the stories they procure.
Beware, those who search for him;
You may find what’s lurking in
The Castle of the Count.