An undead creature of the underworld sent to the living by the Keeper to do his bidding.
The Screelings are loose and the Keeper may win.
His assassins have come to rip off your skin.
Golden eyes
will see you if you try to run.
The screelings
will get you and laugh like it's fun.
Walk away slow or they'll tear you apart,
and laugh all day long as they rip out your heart.
Golden eyes
will see you if you try to stand still.
The screelings
will get you, for the Keeper they kill.
Hack 'em up, chop 'em up, cut 'em to bits,
or else they
will get you while laughing in fits.
If the screelings don't get you the Keeper
will try,
to reach out and touch you, your skin he
will fry.
Your mind he
will flail, your soul he
will take.
You'll sleep with the dead, for life you'll forsake.
You'll die with the Keeper till the end of time.
He hates that you live, your life is the crime.
The screelings might get you, it says so in text.
If screelings don't get you the Keeper is next,
lest he who's born true can fight for life's bond.
And that one is marked; he's the pebble in the pond.