During lucent nights of May
When frogs croak their chants in the ponds and moon fumbles the bulrush
Outrageous shrieks of a sort are to be heard from the old water mill behind the village
And a laughter, that sends chills through the bones
Red at once, green at once, the mill glows
Belching out fumes and turning around
Those are devils playing whist with poor souls at stake
A decoy on gullible youths for the promise of infernal aid for ducat purses and hearts of women stealthily they pull out aces from the sleevеs
Many a fool has swallowed the devilish bait
And thе furred Belzebub welcomed him with his whip
When he tempted providence regrettably, in the game of cards