Cursing the soldiers on a deadly evening

Whose men these are I think I know.
His castle is in the forest though;
He will not let me cursing here
To turn his men into some toads.
My stout demon must throw the dime
To start befor the midnight time
Between the swords and demonic force
The darkest evening of eternal time.
He gives his worthless soldier a smack
To ask if there some others back
The only other sound's the weep
Of deadly wind and icy breath
The time has come, close, and sweet.
And I can finally slay the sheeps.
As my will so mote it be,
As my will so mote it be.