Travel ye quick to the Wood of the Lost
To tie round the Soul Tree a Ribbon of Rose
Travel ye not under cover of night
Lest the Rambling One take you, and laugh as it goes
Up the Hill of the Damned, past the Creek of Spilt Tears
With you clenched in his claws, you’ll add to its flow
You’ll squirm and you’ll scream and kick, spit, and fight
IT will all be for naught, for none are let go
Travel ye quick to the woods, my sweet child
For the Rambler remembers the Rambler is wild