The Exorcism of Faeries

An Old Irish Poem

It is said they are but lore.

It is said they are but demons.

This is but a plague.

Wayward spirits.

Ghosts.

Spectres.

Ghouls.

The truth beckons

Tick flick tick

The clock keeps time with the candle

Until they all get sick

Wax slides down the gilded stick

And the Fae invade with bramble