Running Wild

A scarred and rakish seadog, mysterious opacity
Walks the grove, the phantom's home
Cuts down firs where men would flee
Wooden beams and mortar, the timber shack is taking shape
A blackened hand shines on the plate
Welcome to the tavern in the grove
Where ancient spirits live and rove
The tavern has been opened, the owner is Mr. John Xenir
A rumor says he has second sight
A chance to prove restrains their fear
Night by night revealing, stares into his Crystal-ball
Telling tales of past and future
When man was make and man will fall
Welcome to the tavern in the grove
Where ancient spirits live and rove
The moon is rising high foreboding what the night will bring
The crystal-ball reveals the hidden truth at the Black Hand Inn