Deep in the woods with the moon at its peak The goblins come out to creep Along the river on paths of moss Tiptoeing past where naiads sleep They clamber over long dead ents And flee the wolf-men’s tents To gather at the Coyote’s Fang…

Cool, damp, and muddy Not one but two larger ears A horde of green friends Mushrum lurking tall Goblin beneath oh so short Eating bugs for fun Big tall humanoid Stompy Stompy go his boots Spores are on the loose Threatening Bad Time Goblins run…