Demon Lord of mushrooms (?)
Fear not for your future for now you must sleep In Zuggtmoy’s Cradle your body shall steep. Your flesh a fine banquet of delicate food Your gift to the Lady shall nourish the brood. What births from your leavings and grows in her nave Shall feed from your ruins and fat from your grave.
— A traditional lullaby sung to those in Zuggtmoy’s Cradle