Wither wander thou,
On a night as cold as this?
When you gaze upon the lake,
Do you not see the frightful mist?
The mist can hear, the mist can see,
The mist will stop your heart.
The mist will chase, the mist will find,
No matter how you dart.
Have you heard the fable of Mindy Hable,
Found dead a'neath the snow?
Through the mist, though wind did hiss,
She followed an eerie glow.
She didn't return, though fire did burn,
Her kin waited up 'till dawn.
When ice unfirmed, her kin did learn,
'O her laying on the lawn.
Still you say you'll make your way?
Fool! Did you not hear?
Your journey stay and let me lay
Yet one more tale of fear.
Here's the story of Johnny Lorrie,
Who wandered out at night.
Had many a drink, he didn't think,
And so had a deadly fright.
The mist he spied through his crossed eyes,
And yet he didn't run.
His body found, strewn on the ground,
Lit by the morning sun.
Oh! You still won't heed my words,
Despite my warnings clear.
But, oh well, and time will tell,
If your tale is next we hear.
