By night they ride around your bed,
By day they still are in your head,
Like the air you breathe on a cold winter day,
Here for a second, but they soon fade away.

By night they ride over the town,
Visiting all who in bed have lied down.
And in the morning when all are awake,
Their presence seemed almost fake.

By night they ride, three men strong
The first one, tall, thin, and long.
The second small, yet large in size,
While the third wears dazzling coats of lies.

At night he rides, all alone,
Face shrouded by a hood and wearing a necklace of bone.
His horse’s eyes carry fear and despair,
And he only appears on occasions rare.

At night they ride, all different but the same,
Appearing to all, but having no name.
The four are important, no matter which one,
Because they bring you feelings before the waking of the sun.