Enclosed within a ring of crumbs
a demon sits, twiddling his thumbs.
The broken flesh of Christ has caught
this beast and bound him to this spot.
Around, the chanting monks now go,
encircling their dreaded foe.
A guard is kept, for it is known,
by prophecy, it was foreshown:
Some voice will set the demon free
and loose him by some sorcery.
Until that day, their watch they keep
and try to chant the fiend to sleep.
Tale Told 